A Life Unwoven
by Sadie Elfgirl
Summary: What does 'forever' mean to those who live the life of the Eldar?
1. Brothers divided

**Hello to the world of fanfiction. I am posting an LOTR story! Hooray for me! It's been a very long time, I know. At some point I should probably go and update my bio page, but hey. Maybe I like being 23 forever….probably doesn't work like that. Oh well.**

**Anyhoo, this story is mainly about Elrond and his life. This story is much more episodic than stuff I've posted before, but hopefully y'all will enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Enjoy the fic! Good to be back!**

Forever.

It had meant something very different once upon a time. When he was young, standing beside his brother. When he was older, speaking his vows to his bride. When his children were born and he held them for the very first time…

At those times, forever had been a happy thought. Forever was bright and cheerful and overflowing with the brilliant tapestry of colors that formed his family and the beauty of his home.

One by one, it seemed like a giant, sadistic hand had taken hold of those colored threads and pulled; slowly unraveling his life. Leaving nothing but the very gray and snarled threads, so that his once beautiful tapestry had changed drastically. The threads that had been removed left gaping holes, like open wounds that would never close.

First to go had been his brother. His twin. The other half of himself.

Elros.

-0-0-0-

Sunlight danced across the ocean waves, throwing reflected brightness through the air. Though his eyes were strong, the elf child found he could not look out across the sea without squinting against the glare. The crash of the surf pounded against his ears, but he loved it. The sound of the waves…the crying of the gulls as they fought for food…

He would have been considered small for a human child of his age. Delicate features and fine bones made him seem more like a child of 5 than his actual 10 years. Dark hair spilled down past his slender shoulders, held back from his face with simple braids. His eyes were large in his face, dark gray framed by long lashes.

He sat on the shore, watching the tide push waves ever closer to his toes. The delicately pointed chin rested on knees drawn up to his chest; arms clasped loosely around them. Shoes and tunic rested in the sand behind him, though he still wore simple trousers. He wiggled his toes gently, enjoying the sensation of the sand against his skin.

A warm breeze blew gently, stirring the air just enough to keep the sunlight from becoming overbearing. The elf child sighed, but the sound was lost beneath the crash of the waves.

The eyes were thoughtful, his mind clearly not on his surroundings, but turned inward toward his own musings. The expression was an unusual one for a child his age, but he was not an ordinary child. He was not even an ordinary elf child.

His name was Elrond. And he was thinking about forever.

Forever had different meaning for him than humans he knew. For them, forever meant until death. But _he _would not die. Forever meant _forever._ His life would not end. Unpleasant things might happen now; had happened, in fact. The loss of his parents' presence was a pain that would never fade completely until he sailed into the West and was reunited with them. Pain was finite. It would end. Forever was his brother and his parents. Their presence and their love.

A smile touched the elfling's lips. Forever would be wonderful. He was sure of it. A sigh of deep contentment escaped him as he lay back on the sun-warmed sand. Elrond folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes against the brightness of the sun. The warmth was beginning to make him sleepy.

The smile became a grin. "I know you are there," he said softly. "And if you wish to sneak up on me, it is best not to lumber like an Oliphant."

Elrond opened his eyes to smile up into a face that resembled his own very closely. Elros smiled back and flopped down beside his twin. The other elfling's shoes and tunic quickly joined Elrond's, though they were thrown haphazardly and not folded. While their faces were almost exactly alike, Elros had a thicker, broader build. He was the taller of the two by an inch and there was a substantial air about him. Where Elrond was inclined to think, Elros was inclined to leap. Divested of excess clothing, the elf child stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his elbows. He glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye. "What were you contemplating so deeply?"

Elrond closed his eyes again. "Forever."

Elros raised an eyebrow slightly.

"I was thinking what it will be like," his brother clarified. "When we sail. We'll live with _naneth_ and _adar_ again, and nothing will be able to separate us. There won't be anything to hurt us in Valinor." Elrond opened his eyes and grinned at his twin. "And you will be there!"

Elros smiled back, but he did not say anything.

0-0-0-0

They stood before the Valar, side by side. Time had evened the differences between their heights, and though Elros was still the broader of chest and shoulder, it was not by a great deal. For the past fifty years they had been able to trick the unsuspecting into thinking that one was the other.

They were fully grown, strong, graceful, and elves. They were about to tell the Valar how they chose to live upon _Arda_ and Elrond knew his answer. He remembered the sunlit afternoon by the shore when he thought of what forever meant. His perception of forever had changed as he grew, but the initial memory was still strong. Forever was his brother and his parents together.

The Vala beckoned him to step forward. "Elrond, do you understand the choice before you?"

Elrond's boots made no sound as he moved forward. He bowed deeply, and straightened, his eyes clear and steady. "I do,_ hir nin_. And I have chosen to live as the _Eldar._" Was that a sigh behind him? He almost turned, but the Vala was nodding in acceptance of his choice. Was it his imagination, or did a look of grief pass over the Vala's face as his eyes moved back towards Elros? Elrond blinked, confused, and the look was gone. He must have imagined it.

The being beckoned again, and Elrond saw Elros step forward out of the corner of his eye. "Elros," the Vala asked again, "do _you_ understand the choice before you?" Elrond's eyebrows drew together in confusion. Why was there the underlying layer of grief to the question…?

"I do, _hir nin._" Elros stopped. In surprise, Elrond actually turned his head to look at his brother. Elros' jaw was clenched, his eyes locked on the Vala. He looked as though he were steeling himself for the hardest decision of his life.

In the instant before the words actually left Elros' lips, Elrond knew what his answer would be.

And in his mind, forever shattered into jagged shards.

_Hir nin- my lord_

**First chapter is up! Hoorah for posting again. :) I know that this one isn't very long, but the next chapter should be up in less than a week. Reviews equal love! **


	2. The bitter gift

**Hello all! Well isnt this a pleasant surprise? I am posting ON TIME. Ha ha! This feels wonderful. I should do this more often. :) Special thanks once more to everyone who reviewed! Im glad to see you all again too. Also special thanks to my wonderful sibling beta, for all the aggravation she had to go through for this chapter. Lets just say, computer were not our friends this time around. I got a couple pages deleted, and she lost the whole chapter AFTER she had already done all her beta work. Aggravating. But it all came out okay, because I am posting ON TIME. :) Enjoy!**

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The canvas flap fell behind him as he exited the tent. Elrond was frozen in place, his mind reeling. What had just happened? He turned to demand an explanation from his twin, but Elros no longer stood beside him. The young elf's head jerked from side to side, eyes nearly spinning as he searched for the crimson tunic his brother had been wearing.

There! He could see Elros' broad back disappearing behind another tent. Elrond forced himself forward. He had to catch up to his twin. He had to talk to him.

"Elros!"

Elrond saw his brother's shoulders stiffen as he continued to walk away, but he did not stop. His long legs continued to stride forward, carrying him farther and farther from his twin.

Just as his choice would.

Elrond was still gasping from the decision Elros had made. He had decided to die. To take the gift of men. The Valar had granted him long life, it was true. Elros and his descendants would live much, much longer than most men.

But he would still die.

He would not sail with Elrond to Valinor, and be reunited with their parents, nor pass into the Halls of Waiting upon his physical death and be eventually reborn in the Blessed Realm. Instead, he would molder beneath the crust of the earth until even his memory was erased. And he had not even mentioned that this would be his choice. He had not discussed his decision, though he knew that it would cause Elrond great pain.

A fierce wave of anger rose in Elrond's chest. The young elf broke into a trot and caught up with his brother. "Elros!"

When his twin still did not halt, Elrond reached out and caught hold of Elros' tunic. Twisting the fabric into his fist, he jerked with all his might, forcing his brother to face him.

Elros must have been surprised by Elrond's action. His booted feet stumbled as Elrond spun him about and he did not try to free himself at once. Light grey eyes widened in surprise as Elrond's free hand also caught hold of his garment.

For once, Elrond was on the verge of losing his composure completely. Fists tightening on the homespun tunic, the elder twin jerked his brother forward until Elros was standing on his toes, and his face was mere inches from his twin's. Elrond could feel his calm cracking around the edges. He wanted to scream. He wanted to hurt something. He wanted to beg his brother to reconsider while there was still time. Most of all, he wanted to know…

"_Why_?" He hissed between gritted teeth. _Why_ had Elros done this? Why had he not spoken of it?

Elros' eyes flattened. "Let me go, brother." He waited until Elrond reluctantly complied.

Elros stepped back, tugging at the bottom of his tunic to straighten it. His gaze met Elrond's and for a moment, the elder twin could see his own pain in his brother's eyes. Pain of separation, of loss…

"Elrond…" the word came out softly, almost a plea. But no other words followed it. After a moment of silence, Elros turned on his heel and walked away.

Elrond felt as though he had been dipped into ice water. Everything was going numb. He had not strength to chase his brother and force him to answer. He watched in silence as his Elros' form grew smaller, then turned his back and walked in the opposite direction.

_Thirty-one years later_

A soft spring breeze blew in through his open window, ruffling the pages on the desk before him. Elrond sighed in frustration. His mind had been wandering again. Wandering far and away from the task at hand. Gil-Galad had requested he assist the humans in their preparations for the journey they were about to embark on, and Elrond had reluctantly acquiesced. He wished now that he hadn't.

With every notation of grain and goods the Edain would take with them, he was reminded that Elros would be departing as well.

Not only was Elros departing, he was to be their king!

In a fit of pique, Elrond threw his quill down upon the message he was supposed to be penning and placed his elbows on the desk; propping his chin in his hands. He wasn't getting anywhere with this.

The soft breeze blew once more, carrying the scents of flowers, and damp earth.

Perhaps a walk would clear his head.

Or a run.

Or if he was very fortunate, he would encounter a goblin left over from the war against Morgoth and have some vent for the violent emotions that were ripping his peace to shreds.

Conscientious as always, the young elf carefully capped his ink, and stacked his papers neatly before slipping out of his quarters and into the evening dusk.

0-0-0-0

Elrond settled his back against a tree, his eyes fixed on the night skies to await the appearance of Eärendil. It would take a while. The sun's last rays were still tinting the horizon a ruby red, fading into the dusky purple of evening. It had rained earlier in the day, and the ground was damp, but Elrond noted it not.

The young elf drew his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. A sigh escaped his lips.

Over thirty years. Thirty years, and Elros had never spoken of their choice. They had talked, of course. They remained twins, and Elrond loved his brother no less than he had before. Indeed, he believed that he treasured the times he could spend with Elros all the more because he knew that they were limited.

He could not deny, however, that there was a wall between them.

The light touch of a hand on his shoulder startled him so badly he nearly yelped. Wide eyes flew up to see the smiling face of Gil-Galad.

"_Hir nin_!" Elrond started to rise, but the elf king waved a hand, motioning him to stay where he was. With the easy grace that came by nature, Gil-Galad sank down beside his young friend. Elrond glanced at him from the corner of his eye, curious as to what his king wanted. He knew from experience, however, that Gil-Galad would speak only when he wished to, and all the questioning in the world would not convince him to embark on a subject before he was ready.

"You have been distracted of late, _pen neth._"

Yes. Yes he had. "_Gohena__ nin…_"

"I am not seeking an apology, nor do I desire one," Gil-Galad broke into Elrond's smooth words in his usual blunt manner. "I am concerned. It is not like you to depart from reality and go chasing waking dreams." The king's dark eyes cast a sideways glance at the younger elf. "or nightmares, as the case may be."

Elrond stiffened slightly. He had an idea of where this was leading, and he didn't like it.

"_Na es gwanor lin?_"

The young elf closed his eyes. Did Gil-Galad really expect him to talk about this with him? He couldn't even speak to Elros about the pain and the burden that he was carrying. How could he say anything to anyone else? Elrond opened his mouth to utter a denial.

"…yes." Something had changed the word on the way from his brain to his tongue. He hadn't meant to say yes. He had meant to say no. "Yes. _Yes!_" His voice rose sharply in pitch on the last syllable before breaking off in a choking sound.

With a cry, he buried his face in his hands, his long fingers digging into raven hair.

Gil-Galad remained silent. He knew that words were not necessary at this point in time. One large hand came to rest on his aide's shoulder, offering the comfort of his presence.

After several long moments, Elrond raised his head. He dragged his hand over his face, as though trying to pull away the strain of the past thirty years. "He never speaks of his choice."

"Perhaps he cannot explain it," Gil-Galad offered. The king squeezed his friend's shoulder once more before pushing himself smoothly to his feet. His eyes were kind as they gazed down at Elrond. "I have spent time with both of you over the past three decades," he said. "I do not understand why he chose as he did, but then, I am an elf. I do not think that he was ever as…elven…as you were."

Elrond's face grew thoughtful at his king's words. It was true. Elros had always been more aligned with the Edain.

"However," Gil-Galad paused for a moment, crossing his arms over his broad chest. His eyebrows were drawn together in concern for his aide as he pronounced his words with careful deliberation. "I believe that you would be making a very big mistake, if you thought that this was not the most difficult decision he ever made."

The younger elf held his friend's gaze for a moment, then nodded. Gil-Galad gave him one last smile, before departing as soundlessly as he came.

The stars were beginning to shine in the darkness. Constellations took up their ethereal dance, while the moon bathed the earth below in silver light.

He wasn't quite sure how long he sat there listening to the wind through the trees and the song of the stars. The soft sound of someone's step made his ears prick. Whomever it was moved very softly, at least by human standards. Elrond sighed. He had always been able to hear him coming.

"Greetings, my brother." The younger twin's voice was low, as though he wished to keep from disturbing the peace of the night.

Elrond looked up to see Elros approach. "_Mae govannen_." His stomach clenched at the sight of his brother, followed by a long slow spiral into this toes.

Elros had changed in the past thirty years. Not like the other humans, of course. But time was beginning to trace subtle lines around his mouth and eyes. There was a touch of silver tracing through the raven hair at his temples. A neatly trimmed beard covered the lower half of his face. He was dressed simply, in a tunic and trousers with a sword belted to his side. His hands were rough with labor. This was the kind of king that men could respect. He would not only lead, but join with those who followed him in all their toil.

Elros' mouth curled in a sad smile, as though reading Elrond's thoughts. "The king told me that I might find you here." He still moved with the sure grace of the elves, though he had always been heavier footed. Elrond wondered how much of his elven blood would flow to his descendants. A thousand years from now, would the line of the kings still have pointed ears? Would they see in the dark and step with the lightness of the elves? Would they get sick?

Would they remember Elros as he would?

Always?

Forever?

Elros lowered himself into a sitting position beside his brother. There was silence between the two for a long time. They watched the stars twinkle and dance, revolving around the boat that sailed the night skies withEärendil their sire at its helm; the silmaril bound to his brow. The silence between them was broken gradually, first with the retelling of anecdotes, then their laughter.

For once, it seemed to Elrond that the wall was down, at least temporarily. He consciously pushed tomorrow out of his head, and enjoyed the companionship of his twin.

Dawn was approaching by the time he and Elros fell silent again. The Eastern horizon was beginning to shimmer as the sun rose from her bed.

Elros sighed softly, smiling as the birds in the tree above them woke and began their song. His eyes glanced towards his twin, then down at his hands, where they lay clasped about his knees. "We leave soon, Elrond."

Elrond felt his stomach lurch. "_Iston_."

Silence. A different silence than before. This silence was one filled with tension. Would he finally speak of his choice?

"Elrond…" Elros turned toward his brother and looked him in the eye. His lips were moving, like he was trying to find the words to say, but no sound was forthcoming.

His face twisted, and Elrond saw what Gil-Galad had tried to tell him. Far from making his choice flippantly, Elros had nearly been torn in two by the weight of his decision. His eyes darkened with pain. The same pain that Elrond felt.

Elros swore suddenly and pounded a fist into the ground. One hand raked his hair back, twisting in the dark strands. His eyes held a wild look in them. Grief, pain, desperation… "_Gohena__ nin_."

Elrond's eyes widened in surprise. He felt his jaw drop slightly. His brother was extraordinarily stubborn. He couldn't remember hearing him apologize like this before. And apologize for what? For his choice? No, that wasn't it.

Elros met Elrond's eyes and the elder twin was again surprised to see that Elros' eyes were bright with moisture. The same eyes as his own. Not quite the same. His eyes were gray, and Elros' were more silver.

"_Gohena__ nin, gwanor. An ona le nwalme."_

Elros had not spoken elvish in Elrond's hearing since the day he made his choice. He was not apologizing for the choice that he had made, nor was he offering an explanation. And yet Elrond could see for himself that it had not been an easy decision to make.

Would he allow his brother to depart in bitterness?

Elrond nodded slowly. He put his arms around Elros shoulders and drew his brother close, embracing him tightly. "I forgive you," he whispered.

He would bury the hurt and the pain. Bury it so deeply that he hoped it would never come to light again. Holding tightly to his brother, he bundled the chaos of his emotions into a corner of his soul and slammed a lid shut over them. He knew that they would be there waiting for him, someday.

_After all_, he thought with bitterness for the first time in his life, _I am going to live forever._

0-0-0-0

Elros decision to be human had unraveled a large part of Elrond's life. The brilliant color that had been his close companion, the other half of himself was slowly pulled farther and farther away. Elrond had watched his brother age; had felt it deep in his soul when the king drew his last breath. Forever had not gone according to his plans. Nothing had gone according to his plans. Forever was supposed to include Elros, but Elros had chosen the bitter gift given to men. The pain had never truly died over the many years. Dulled, definitely. He would still see something, think of something, hear a snatch of song or verse and smile to himself; imagining Elros' expression when he told him…then he recalled that he would never see Elros again. Never hear his laugh. Never speak with him in earnest conversation, nor clasp hand with his brother. Elros was gone; his body decayed to nothing, his grave lost forever beneath the sea. Then the dull ache would flare to searing pain.

What had once been closely knit brilliance was now shreds.

0-0-0-0

_Hir nin-my lord_

_Pen neth-young one_

_Mae govannen-well met_

_Na es gwanor lin?-Is it your brother?_

_Gohena__ nin-forgive me_

_Gohena__ nin, gwanor. An ona le me, brother. For giving you pain/torment._

_Iston-__I know_

0-0-0-0

**Okay, there you go. One incredibly sad chapter. Poor Elrond. Next chapter should be up within a week! Thank you all for reading, and I love reviews. Really. I do. Did I mention that I love reviews? Cause I do. Really. :)**


	3. Wings of hope

**I don't know if you guys can handle this craziness. I am not only posting on time, I am EARLY. Oh yeah. Anyhoo, I was going to be out of town on my posting day, so I decided to get the chapter out beforehand. **

** Lets see here, as to the story, like I said before, this story is very episodic, mostly a look at Elrond's character (because he is awesome) and his thoughts at some of the most crucial moments of his life. There are some fluffy moments, but being who and what I am, I am focusing on the sad stuff a lot. I like emotional torment, what can I say? There is a theme that ties everything together, and the ending chapter will have a more or less satisfying conclusion. Hopefully. :) So enjoy! Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! Also, a special thanks to Tubolo, because I cannot reply in person through the little review reply thingy. I love reviews SO much!**

**I don't know if anyone else is having problems with this, but every time I upload a document, nearly all of the punctuation disappears. Does anyone know how to avoid this? I would love to hear from you, cause it's a pain to go back through in the edit feature and fix it all.  
**

**0-0-0-0**

Celebrian had come and knit the loose ends together. Her softer, sweeter color had patched the hole, even though she could not completely repair it. She wove herself into new areas of his life, until he knew that she was more a part of him than Elros had been. Her presence and love did not replace the grief and loss of his twin, but in her own way, she became even dearer. Her gentleness won his heart long before he told her any of his thoughts. Grief, loss, and the smoldering sense of betrayal made him play his cards very close to his chest. Celebrian was the breath of fresh air that made him realize for the first time why there were moments when he almost hated Elros…

0-0-0-0

A fire burned cheerfully in Elrond's study. Night had fallen long ago, and dark shadows danced across the two inhabitants of the cozy room; their faces now illuminated, now thrown into blackness by the crackling flames. A delegation from Lothlorien had arrived earlier in the day, and the lord of Imladris had been immensely pleased to discover that Celeborn's daughter made one of the party. They had come into contact many times over the years and every time he saw her, the dark-haired elf lord became aware that she was beginning to dominate a larger and larger place in his heart. He had not spoken to her of it yet. Maybe sometime soon…

Elrond turned his head slightly, intent only on admiring the way the firelight glinted across the lovely elleth's silver-blond hair, but the expression on her face arrested his attention. Throughout the evening she had been casting glances in his direction that he was unable to translate. Celebrian seldom kept anything from him for very long, and he loved her ability to share with him, but tonight was different. They had talked, but she had been slightly distant. Withdrawn.

He caught her eye and found the expression stamped on her delicate features once more. It was…sad, he realized with a start. Wistful. Like she wanted something, but had come to the conclusion that she would never have it. Why, he wondered in bewilderment, would she look at _him_ with such a thought? Didn't she know already that he would give anything to see her smile?

"What troubles you, _hiril_?" he asked softly, his dark eyebrows drawing together in concern.

Celebrian did not reply at first, her own, more delicate brows knotting. With smooth grace she rose from her seat and crossed the room to stand before him. Her small hand closed over his large one where it rested on the arm of his chair, and for a moment Elrond forgot to breath. He looked at their hands together and fought the urge to wind his fingers through hers. Her touch was not that of a lover, not a paramour, but like the comforting and reassuring touch an adult would give a small child.

"What happened?" She asked quietly, disrupting his train of thought. Dragging his eyes from their hands, Elrond looked up into her face. Her eyes were sad. So sad. For him. She was sad for _him_. This only served to throw the elf lord into deeper confusion.

"_Hiril nin?_"

"Elrond," she paused for a moment, obviously considering her words.

His heart gave a funny lurch at the sound of his name from her lips. He still didn't know what was going on, but for a brief moment, he would've given anything to hear her say his name again.

"You have a wall between yourself and the rest of the world," she said softly. "You are charming and engaging, but you do not let anyone come closer to you than your outstretched arm."

The elf lord froze, unable to move as she knelt before him, looking up earnestly into his face with her sad eyes. "What happened?"

Elrond opened his mouth to refute her statement, but the words would not come. She was right. Slowly, he opened the lid of his own Pandora's Box. The grief and agony welled forth like a dark cloud, boiling through his veins and searing every part of his soul. But there was no Hope left in the bottom to comfort the elf lord. He closed his eyes against the familiar ache, but for the first time he examined his emotions carefully, determined to give a satisfactory answer to the maid he longed to draw closer.

Gray eyes opened gradually, sparkling with grief, to find Celebrian kneeling at his side. Both her hands were now closed tightly over his and her own eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Tell me," she whispered. He knew now what she was really requesting. She wanted to be nearer to him. She wanted him to trust her.

A long moment passed as he looked into her eyes, the crackling of the fire the only sound to break into the deep silence.

"He chose the gift," Elrond finally forced the sentence through stiff lips. The words fell oddly into the stillness. His usual façade of calm was being stripped away to the raw emotions that boiled in his soul. Old wounds were finally being exposed to air. "He made his choice…and he left me behind to mourn his absence, forever." The last word was spoken with an unconsciously bitter accent.

"Your brother," Celebrian stated.

"Elros." Elrond nodded, feeling his throat start to close. "My twin. He chose that bitter, bitter gift. My closest friend, and he did not even tell me." Something stirred in the dark corners of the box, gradually coming into the light. Something restless, fierce and horrible. It had always been there, but the dark cloud of grief and loneliness had covered it; hidden it. Buried it. But under Celebrian's gentle question it surged forward, demanding that he recognize it at last.

Anger. Betrayal.

"Did he ever tell you the reason for his choice?" Celebrian's soft voice broke the silence.

"No." Another shaft of anger pierced Elrond's heart. "He would never speak of it, nor give answer for his decision." The elf lord could feel his bitter anger slowly eating through his calm, like acid dripping onto steel. "He left me. We were supposed to be together always and he…"

Words abandoned him. He could not fathom, or express the pain that broke through his carefully constructed walls. Like the fierce waves battering the shoreline his emotions pounded against his sensibilities, his reserve, his composure. All were laid to rubble. Elrond squeezed his eyes shut against the onslaught. He could feel his features twisting into agonized expressions. He could feel warm tears leaking down his cheeks and for the first time since Elros had made the choice he did not try to stop them.

How long this continued, he did not know. He was brought back to reality by the feeling of wetness against his fingers. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked down to see Celebrian's silver-gold head bent over the hand she held. Her tears were dampening his skin. Her slender body shook with sobs as she grieved with him. When she looked up, she did not wipe away her tears. Did not try to turn her face so that he would not see her eyes swollen and red. Blue eyes met gray.

"Elrond," she whispered, "I cannot promise you that I will never leave. I do not know the future." She sighed, and reaching out, gently cupped his cheek with her hand, her thumb wiping away tears. "I do promise that you can trust me. If I have the choice, I will choose to stay."

The choice was his. He could draw her closer, or he could push her back. He could keep his wall up and never let anyone close enough to harm him. Or…

Celebrian's eyes filled with tears again as she bit her lip gently. He could see that she took his silence for a refusal to open himself. Her body trembled with an unreleased sob, for herself this time, as she rose to her feet. Regretfully, she started to pull her hand away from his cheek. Elrond knew that he had seconds to act. Seconds in which he must make one of the most crucial decisions of his life.

His hand flew up, trapping her fingers before they could leave his face completely. Celebrian uttered a soft gasp, surprised by the swiftness with which he had moved, followed by a squeak of shock as his other arm wrapped itself around her waist and pulled.

She fell forward, clumsy for the first time in her life, only to be caught in strong arms. Surprised beyond belief, she found herself seated on Elrond's lap, his arms enclosing her tightly as he buried his face in her shoulder.

There was not another word spoken for the time being. Celebrian slowly stroked the back of his dark head as the fire burned low and the shadows claimed them both.

In the darkest corner of the box, Hope's gilded wings glittered, stretched, then slowly began to glow as the sprite took flight and allowed her light to shine through Elrond's soul.

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_Hiril nin?-My lady?_

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**There you go. Some nice fluff to break up the torment. Next chapter should be fairly fluffy too, but then we get back into the soul-rending stuff. So, the more reviews I get, the faster the angst gets here. :) and YES, I realize that is shameful blackmailing. Thanks much, and I will see you all in a week!**


	4. Unexpected joy

** Hello everyone. I am posting on time! My, I don't think I've posted this regularly since…too long. Anyhoo, nice little chapter here. Some more fluff. Last chapter of fluff before things turn ugly, actually. So enjoy! :)**

**0-0-0-0**

When their sons arrived, their colors were jewel toned and with every passing day they bound Elrond's tapestry more tightly, wrapping themselves around him and Celebrian until they were inextricably entwined. Elros absence was a much smaller hole now. Elrond knew that it would be there forever, but the other threads kept the rent from being too noticeable. And he assumed that they would be there forever too.

0-0-0-0

Elrond stood on his balcony, enjoying the cool breeze that blew through the valley of Imladris. Silver moonlight bathed Rivendell in eerie light. The silence only achieved by very early morning hours pervaded. Not even the birds were awake yet, and the stars had a few hours yet to dance before they retreated from the skies. There were many things that the elf lord could have been contemplating at that moment. He had many cares, many worries, and from time to time, the balcony had witnessed his early morning visits as he paced and pondered. Celebrian often teased him, saying that if he stepped as heavily as a man he would have worn through the balcony stones by now.

The breeze stirred through his hair. Unbound, dark strands hung over his shoulders and down his back like streaks of ink. Yes, he could have been contemplating, or worrying, or pacing. But he was not. For once, his attention was nowhere near the concerns of Imladris. Instead, he was focused intently on the bundle he held protectively in the curve of one arm.

His son.

He hadn't been expecting this.

In wonder, he touched the small, pale hand that poked through the cocoon of blankets and felt Elladan's fingers close around his with tenacious instinct. He was so _small_. The elfling's entire hand could barely close around Elrond's one finger. The new father stared at his first born, wondering if he would ever tire of gazing at the infant. Gray eyes started back unabashedly. The elfling was quiet, but most definitely not sleeping. Elrond gently freed his finger and stroked the raven tufts that sprouted at odd angles from his son's scalp, almost obscuring the tips of his tiny pointed ears. The hair was softer even than Celebrian's. No, he had most definitely not been expecting this.

Elrond tenderly tucked the blanket closer around Elladan's body, hoping that the infant was slipping closer to sleep. Elladan squirmed as soon as he couldn't move his arm and opened his mouth to fuss. With a sigh, Elrond loosened the cloth slightly, allowing Elladan his freedom. "If your mother asks how you caught a chill, it was your own decision," he whispered. Elladan promptly responded by seizing some of the loose strands of Elrond's hair and tugging them.

The elf lord chuckled softly. He had certainly not been expecting this.

Turning, Elrond left the balcony and entered his bedchamber. The silver light of the moon cut across the smooth floor stones like a path, illuminating the bed where Celebrian rested. Her eyes unfocused in the deep sleep of absolute exhaustion.

A tender smile turned the corners of Elrond's mouth as he gazed at her sleeping face. She had made no sound of complaint throughout the birth. Although, (his smile turned into a grin) there had been moments when she had glared at him with such an intensity that he was surprised he had not burst into flame.

Gently, Elrond placed Elladan in the bassinet that stood next to Celebrian. Her hand was dangling over the edge even in her sleep, resting on the bundle within, so as to be alerted at the slightest movement. Elrond grinned again. Fortunately for her, it was Elladan who would not sleep. She needed rest. The elf lord tenderly stroked his firstborn's downy forehead and tucked his blankets about him more carefully, trying not to disturb the bundle upon which Celebrian's slender fingers rested. Dark strands of hair fell over Elrond's' shoulders as he bent over the bassinet and gazed in wonder at the two small elflings lying side by side.

No, he had not expected this.

Elladan flapped his star-shaped hand once more and yawned, his gray eyes drooping.

"That's it, _ion nin_," Elrond whispered. "Sleep. Take example from your brother. Elrohir is resting as he may. You may be sure that he will not wake before he must. I can already see that he will be the rational one."

As if to purposely belie his words, Elrohir squirmed and let out a thin wail.

Celebrian's eyes were brought back into focus abruptly. She looked disoriented for a moment, then saw Elrond already slipping large hands under Elrohir's tiny body. A sweet smile covered her face and she stretched out her arms for the babe. "He's probably hungry."

Her smile widened as she watched her husband. He handled his sons as though they were made of finely spun glass and subject to break at the slightest provocation.

Elrond smiled back ruefully as he deposited the infant into Celebrian's arms. He couldn't help it. For the first time in his life he felt…awkward. Enormously oversized, clumsy, and rough. The elf lord watched as Celebrian settled Elrohir at her breast. Celebrian chuckled as she observed his gaze. "They will not shatter, _meleth_."

Elrond reclined beside his wife. He reached out a hand and touched the back of Elrohir's head. He shook his head in silent wonder. Normally his hand seemed to be very gracefully formed, with long, strong fingers. Cupping the elfling's head, it looked monstrously large. The calluses he had earned long ago from wielding a blade had never seemed so prominent as when he stoked the softness of the fine baby hair.

"They please you?" Celebrian asked the question so softly that Elrond almost did not hear her. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he turned his gaze to her face. Under his gray eyes Celebrian flushed and quickly looked away.

The elf lord propped himself up on one elbow. He frowned, considering the whispered words. Celebrian did not ask questions without reason. Rather than give a quick, glib answer, he pondered her reasons for asking. Had he somehow inadvertently given her the impression that he was not pleased with his children? With her? Trying to remember his initial reaction to his sons was difficult…the whole experience was a haze of awe and bewilderment with a sliver of something a little more bitter running through the vein of his joy.

Elrond sighed. He knew what Celebrian was thinking of. There had been an instant after the twins had been laid in his arms. Looking down at their faces he was suddenly, brutally, hit with the old pain. Since Celebrian had come into his life he had found Elros' absence had ceased to be a sharp knife and was fading into a bittersweet ache. When he had held his sons, he had remembered his own twin brother who was no longer beside him. The ache had flared into true pain for an instant. Elros would never see his nephews; never play with them nor have the chance to become a part of their world. It was suddenly almost unbearable to realize that his sons would never know Elros as anything other than a story.

His wonderful, beautiful sons.

As quickly as the moment had come, it had passed. Instead of focusing on the absence of his brother, Elrond looked to the years that stretched before his sons. They would not have to choose as he and Elros had. They would have each other throughout their lives. The bond that he had shared with his twin made him fully aware of what lay in store for the two tiny elflings, and how wonderful it could be. Already, he had noticed that when separated the twins were less easy than when they were in close proximity to one another. Logically, he knew that they were too young to notice their surroundings, but the bond shared by twins had very little to do with logic. They would support each other, help each other, fight with and forgive each other.

Elrond came back to the present to see his wife chewing her lip as she clutched Elrohir a little closer. The elf lord leaned forward and turning her face toward him, kissed her firmly over Elrohir's downy head. Pulling back, he traced her cheek before cupping it and kissing her again. "They are beautiful," he assured her firmly. The look of relief that washed over her features made him realize that she was not really concerned over his affection for his sons, but for how the reminder of his lost brother must be affecting him. There were times when Celebrian knew him better than he knew himself. A lump in his throat choked off further words as he watched his wife place Elrohir on her lap and close her gown.

Elrohir snuffled sleepily as his mother raised him to her shoulder and patted his back. Even as Elrohir slipped back into a deep sleep, Elladan issued an irritated wail from his position in the bassinet. Celebrian chuckled as she lowered the younger twin and took up the older. Elrond watched as she opened her gown again.

"How…" the elf lord watched his firstborn suckle with curiosity. "How does that…feel?"

Celebrian looked at him blankly for a moment. A smile made the corners of her mouth twitch suddenly. Furrowing her brow in mock thoughtfulness, she placed the tip of a finger alongside her chin, as though considering her answer carefully. Finally, she made a soft lowing sound, like the milk cows in the human villages.

Elrond grinned. Whether or not he had expected this, he was immensely pleased with the state of things. From the instant that Celebrian had told him that she was expecting he had felt the lives of his children stretching down roots into his own; making themselves a part of who he was and always would be. They would change him, without a doubt. He would be altered by the care and love needed and reciprocated by the two tiny beings he had helped to create with his wife.

Celebrian finished feeding Elladan, who finally slipped into slumber like his brother. Long after Celebrian had also drifted off, Elrond remained awake. He brushed a finger against Elladan's hand and watched as Elrohir also clutched with the same hand for the finger that he was sure was there.

"You will be very special to one another, _iyn nin,_" he whispered. "And your mother and I, of course. But together…the bond you have is something wonderful. It will be with you forever."

The word slipped out before he could stop it and hung in the air for a moment, as though deciding whether it would bless or curse the elflings. Elrond's hands tightened on the edges of the bassinet as he bit his foolish tongue. He had not meant to say something so carelessly, but it had just slipped out. He stood, bending over his children as though he would shield them; as though by placing his body over them he could protect them from whatever harm he could feel lingering in the wake of his carelessly chosen word.

After a tense moment, Elrond's fingers loosened their grip and he slowly straightened. Whatever doom he had felt had passed, though he still felt shaken by the sense of something testing his words, to see if there was any way to twist them.

0-0-0-0

They hadn't really expected Arwen; hadn't planned for her. But when she came, her radiant silver was the perfect touch. So perfect, in fact, that Elrond wondered why he hadn't missed her before she had arrived. The tapestry was perfect, he thought. Created by a master who knew just how much grief was enough, and what threads were necessary to mend the initial tear. And he would have this forever.

Then Celebrian was taken by the orcs.

0-0-0-0

_Ion nin-my son_

_Meleth- love_

_Iyn nin-my sons_

**Okay, so obviously things are about to go very, very badly. But that's to be expected, given my tendency to write horrible torment for the beloved characters. :) Reviews are wonderful, WONDERFUL things, and if I get enough of them, I may post by Mon. I am not above anything when it comes to reviews. Blackmail, groveling, shameless weeping…you get the idea. :)**

**Tubolo****-As I can't reply personally to the anonymous reviews, I'll do so here. Thanks for the comments on the crafted fluff. :) It's not my normal genre, so I'm glad that its coming across well. I'm also really pleased to hear that you like Celebrian. I haven't written her before, so I'm always happy to receive feedback. Hope you enjoyed the appearance of the baby twins! Sorry, no baby Arwen, but the grown twins will be in shortly upcoming chapters. Thanks so much for reviewing! **


	5. Fading Color

**And now we're back to the angst. Many thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially the anonymous reviewers Alli, Tubolo and Danielle. I appreciated all of your comments and loved hearing from you. :) **

** This chapter I am particularly interested in getting feedback on, as the whole story sort of began here. During the last couple years at college I decided not to begin posting any more stories, as I could not be relied on to post consistently. (Story writing or grades. Something had to go.) However, my muse has this way of popping up at random moments, and as MANY people can attest, not every college professor is interesting all the time. So this chapter was written over a period of about two years and mixed in with the notes of about five different classes. I rediscovered it when I was going through my old notebooks. It usually took the form of about half a page containing information pertinent to the class, then dissolving into doodles of leaves, eyes, elves and weapons (maybe a few sentences begging God to kill either me or the professor now) followed by a couple paragraphs of the story that was fermenting beneath the surface of my consciousness. **

**Anyhoo****, I don't often begin a story in the middle and work my way outwards, but this one went through more of a process than others. I have also written and rewritten and discarded whole pages, which is not something I do very often either. So feedback is ESPECIALLY appreciated this time around. :) Thanks all! Enjoy the angsty torment. :)**

**0-0-0-0**

_"Naneth_!" Elrohir sprang forward, his sword falling to the rocky floor with a harsh clatter. Elladan was frozen where he stood; hands turning white around the handles of his weapons. Horror was swamping his mind. He couldn't move. Couldn't think! He couldn't comprehend what he was seeing because it was _impossible_. The pitiful, wounded creature hanging from chains against the cave wall could not be his mother…

"_Nana,_" Elrohir reach for her and Celebrian flinched away from him, a whimper spilling from swollen lips. The young elf lord's face twisted in pain. His mother did not know him. Slowly, so as not to frighten her any more, he reached up towards the thick manacles that encircled her wrists. She jerked again at his touch and he bit his lip, trying not to let it hurt him. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he worked to release his mother from her bonds. Rage boiled inside him with the pain.

Elrohir heard the clatter of metal on rock as Elladan released the swords. The elder twin stepped forward in time to wrap strong arms around Celebrian as her wrists were loosed. Without his support the lady of Imladris would have fallen to the rough floor of the cavern. She was unable to hold her own weight.

"_Naneth__,_" Elladan called as he cradled the thin, battered elf woman; sinking to the ground with her in his arms. His normally strong voice cracked and broke as he tenderly stroked filthy hair away from Celebrian's face.

She did not respond. Indeed, she did not even seem to see him anymore. Her beautiful eyes were dulled with pain; filled with horror that not even the presence of her sons could alleviate.

Elladan looked up and caught the eyes of his brother. Elrohir was leaning against the cave wall, his face haggard. He looked old…old…old with an age that manifested itself in something other than physical appearance. Tears were flowing unchecked down his face as his gray eyes rested on the elf woman held in his brother's arms.

The soft whimpers of fear and pain passing Celebrian's lips tore at Elladan's heart. He longed to hold his mother tightly, but didn't dare. He could see the angry purple and blue welts on her wrists from the manacles, and the blood that stained what was left of her gown. He was afraid that a tight embrace would not only frighten her, but possibly aggravate her wounds.

Slowly, Elladan gathered his mother in his arms and pushed himself to his feet. Her weight was disturbingly slight. The young elf lord could easily have imagined himself to be carrying a child. Celebrian stirred as he rose and gave a soft cry. One of her hands pushed against Elladan's chest feebly as she tried to struggle. Her efforts were so pitifully weak, Elladan felt tears rising. "It's all right," he whispered, gently holding his mother's head to his shoulder and resting his cheek against her hair. "Everything will be alright, _nana_. We're taking you to _Ada_. He will make everything right."

The dark-haired elf continued to murmur comfortingly as his long legs carried them both from the depths of the orcs lair. Through he spoke to her, Elladan could not honestly say who he was trying to convince more: Celebrian, or himself.

0-0-0-0

Bright flames leapt and snapped loudly in the eerie silence that encompassed the twins' campsite. Neither moved, nor spoke. Celebrian lay near enough to the fire to feel its warmth, her broken body cushioned with what bedding her sons could find. Elrohir had slipped one of Elrond's sleeping draughts into the water he had given her, and mercifully, she slept.

Elladan watched his mother, his expression tight and strained. If it hadn't been for the soft rise and fall of her ribs, Elladan could have sworn that she was dead. Her skin, once luminous, did not glow with the light of the _Eldar_. There was a dry, brittle feeling to it, like very old parchment. The young elf lord felt almost afraid to touch her for fear her skin would tear beneath his hand; like the pages of an ancient book. Ugly black and blue welts traced their way over her arms. Elladan ground his teeth together as he saw the smudged yellow shade of bruises half healed beneath the fresher, more vibrant colored injuries. Though he knew they were not her most serious injuries, her wrists disturbed him most of all. The manacles surrounding her delicate flesh had not only bruised, but bitten through the skin. Elrohir had washed them carefully, and dressed them with a poultice and soft linen bandages. Though his touch was as light as possible, Celebrian had cried out and struggled against him.

Elladan drew in a breath sharply and dug the fingers of both hands into his hair. He and Elrohir had tended their mother to the best of their abilities, but Elladan knew that only Elrond had the knowledge that could heal Celebrian. And, he was not completely sure that even his father would be able to do anything. It frightened him that his mother did not seem to recognize either him or Elrohir. More than her injuries, more than her pain; the fact that she did not know her sons made him wonder if it was _possible_ for his mother to be healed.

She looked so small, he noticed with alarm. Her normally slender form emaciated. The curled, protective posture of her limbs made him think of a young child wrapped in a nightmare. He remembered his own frightened nights of childhood, when the soft touch of a parent was all that was necessary to keep evil dreams at bay. Tenderly, the elf lord stroked long fingers through the tangles of his mother's hair. "Do not be afraid," he whispered, just as she had so many years ago. "I am here. Nothing will harm you…" A knot constricted his throat painfully, inhibiting speech.

The dark-haired elf's shoulders shook violently. With supreme effort, he forced back the sobs that threatened to tear him apart. Tears rolled silently down his fair face and the hand that stroked his mother's hair trembled.

Celebrian flinched suddenly as Elladan's hand stroked the back of her head. Elladan felt sick. Yet another wound? Something he and Elrohir had missed? Slowly, with inestimable care, the young elf parted his mother's tangled locks to reveal the back of her slender neck.

There, standing out starkly against her pale skin, was the angry red mark of a cattle brand.

In the detached, horrified state of mind that followed Elladan noted that the burn was fresh, and if treated carefully would heal without leaving a trace. Elrond could do it; it was possible, it was… At that point feeling rushed back into his numbed senses along with the realization that those _monsters_ had _branded **his** mother_ like a piece of property. They had actually taken an iron to her flesh when she was already wounded and frightened, and…

Elladan stood abruptly and ran, ignoring the startled cry of his twin. He didn't go very far, only a dozen paces or so before the writhing of his stomach betrayed him. Leaning heavily against a tree, Elrond's firstborn retched helplessly again and again. Everything he had eaten was long gone before the powerful heaves ceased to convulse his slender body.

He could not restrain the sobs any longer, but only hope that his mother would not wake. Slowly, Elladan sank to the ground and drew his knees up to his chest. Dark hair fell like curtains on both sides of his face as he let his head fall forward.

He did not know how long he remained in that position. Gradually he became aware of a gentle hand stroking the back of his head. The elf lord wearily lifted his face; eyes vacant. He had not thought it possible for there to be another who was suffering as much as himself at this moment, but the gaze that met his own told him he was wrong.

Elrohir opened his mouth, but no words issued forth. There was nothing he could say that would bring comfort to either of them and they both knew it.

The younger twin sank to the ground beside Elladan. His arms encircled his brother, and Elladan clung to him.

0-0-0-0

Elrond's long fingers clenched and unclenched on the reigns of his horse with anxiety. Tension gripped his stomach in a firm and unyielding vice. Since he had learnt of his wife's disappearance on the road to Lothlorien he had not been able to stomach more that a mouthful of food at a time. Days of fruitless searching had done nothing to alleviate the elf lord's worry. Rather, it grew with every moment that Celebrian was separated from him. Where was she?

"Elrond!" The sound of his name startled the elf lord, and Elrond turned in surprise to see Glorfindel pointing. At the same instant he became aware of cries behind him and reigned his horse in. The elves of his party were calling to far-off horsemen. Even from such a great distance, Elrond could make out the distinctive gait of his sons' horses and the dark heads of hair. The twins. Elrond bit his lip as he saw them approach. The only reasons the twins would be rejoining his party was if they had news of their mother (unlikely. If they had news they would have sought her out.) Or, (his heart pounded wildly, making him dizzy.) they had already found her. As the twins drew nearer Elrond frowned. Elladan was burdened with a large pack settled across his knees and covered with a blanket. What was it? Elrond could not make out a distinct shape…

A wind sprang up and sent the long braids of his dark hair whipping behind him. Elrond saw his son react, but not quickly enough. The edge of the blanket flapped, fell, and revealed the shape Elladan held cradled in his arms.

The hoarse cry that escaped from Elrond's lips sounded like the wounded call of an animal. He could see the pale skin in the sun's last rays, and the silver blond hair. "Celebrian!" She did not move, or react in any way, and her immobility caused Elrond's stomach to clench anew. Even as he kicked his horse's flanks, urging it forward, a cold ruthless fear gripped his heart with bony fingers. She didn't move…she didn't move, and as he drew nearer he could see the grief that had etched new lines on his sons' faces.

Elrond pulled back sharply on his mount's reigns and threw himself from the animal's back in almost the same movement. He stumbled clumsily as his booted feet hit the loose shale, but did not notice. "Celebrian!"

0-0-0-0-

Elrohir watched their father spur his mount forward and felt his heart sink in his chest. He so longed to have better tidings. Yes, they had found their mother. Yes, she still breathed. Was she truly alive? Elrohir didn't know. The first night, when she had cried out in fear and shrank from their touch was the most animated she had been. In the past few days she had sunk into a state somewhere between waking and dreaming. Her eyes were open and she moved where she was led, but there was no _life_; no spark. The playful sweetness that had been such an ever present trait of his mother's character had vanished. The whimpers of terror were no longer heard, but in their place was a drone-like muteness that Elrohir found even more distressing. He did not even know if his mother recognized himself and Elladan. She had not said their names, nor did she look on them with love, relief or any other emotion. It was as though her mind had given up and left her body to fend for itself.

"Celebrian!" Elrond's voice rang out and Elrohir winced as he saw the look on his father's face. Elrond was frightened. Worried beyond belief. The younger twin swallowed hard past the lump that was forming in his throat. What would they say?

Celebrian stirred slightly at the sound of her husband's voice. A small; very small trickle of awareness seeped through the blank stare.

The lord of Imladris threw himself from his horse as the animal skidded to a stop. He stumbled as he landed; clumsy in his haste to reach his wife. "Celebrian!" Despite his fear, the hands that reached to touch the elf woman were gentle and steady. Healer's hands. Elrohir saw focus come back into his mother's eyes and for an instant his heart lightened. _Ada_ would know what to do. Everything would be alright. _Nana_ would heal, and she would smile again…

Celebrian's thin face went blank abruptly, as though a window had been slammed shut. Elrond pressed her frail fingers to his lips and Elrohir could see his father's face twist in grief. The brief light of hope that had kindled in his heart was cruelly snuffed, like a candle before a blast of cold, midwinter wind. Whatever was wrong; whatever Celebrian had endured, the scars were deep and terrible. They would not fade quickly.

Watching his father relieve Elladan of their mother's slight weight, Elrohir caught sight of eyes, staring at nothing. He bleakly wondered if he would ever get his mother back.

0-0-0-0

_Naneth__-Mother_

_Ada__-Father(dad)_

_Nana-Mother(mom)_

0-0-0-0

**There you go. Some nice angsty goodness. Next chapter should be up in a week! Review pleeeeaaaassse /gets on knees and gives puppy dog eyes/**


	6. Agony of Defeat

**Many many thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter. :) I seriously got some of the best reviews ever! Made me happy… Also, special thank you to the anonymous reviewers, Danielle and alli.**

**Okay, we are about to delve into another chapter of angst and sadness, but I know that's what everyone loves the most, so on with the fic!**

**0-0-0-0**

She was not ripped away; not separated by death as Elros…but what followed was almost worse. The sweet, softness that was her very nature faded and paled until all that was left was a bleak and dreary remnant of her former vibrancy. The tapestry had not been torn asunder, but a vital color had been bleached from the fabric. She was there, but she was not there in the way that she was supposed to be. She was a wraith of herself; barely alive and losing more of her color every day that she remained by his side.

0-0-0-0

_Months later_

It was like watching a ghost, Elrond decided.

It had been late in the summer when the twins had discovered and rescued their mother from the orcs. Now, the cold winds of February were whistling in the valley's trees, blowing ice and snow before them. The river was thickly encrusted with ice, and all Imladris residents wrapped themselves in warm cloaks while jostling cheerfully for places nearer the fire.

There was no change.

That was not entirely true, the elf lord reconsidered. Some changes had taken place. The bruises had healed, (too slowly, but they had done so) she had gained back some weight, so Elrond could no longer see her ribs through the material of her gown. Gone was the ugly red mark Elladan had discovered on the back of her neck. There had been other injuries too; wounds encrusted with the grime of orc blades. They had also healed. In all respects, Celebrian was physically healthy once more.

And yet… Elrond silently moved to one side as his wife passed. Her small feet made no sound upon the flagstones, and the elven grace that was her birthright appeared to make her float. She gave no sign that she had seen her husband, nor the new painting on the wall, nor anything around her. Had Elrond not moved from her path she might have walked into him. Elrond swallowed hard as he watched her move away. There had been poison in the wounds that he had treated. Though the flesh had closed, and she seemed to be well, the deeper damage remained.

Arwen had stayed by her mother's side almost as unceasingly as her father. Wherever Celebrian was, the Evenstar of Imladris followed close behind. The months of watching had made her almost as silent as Celebrian, and her smile was seen very rarely anymore. She followed in her mother's footsteps now, sparing a moment to squeeze her father's hand as she passed. Elrond appreciated the gesture, even as it reminded him sharply of Celebrian.

In his mind, he could see her as she had been. Her blue eyes sparkled, her graceful step was nearer a skip, and her pretty, chiming laugh was heard often. The lord of Imladris could feel his hands balling into fists. Less than a year ago she would have stopped upon passing him in the corridor and kissed his cheek, tweaked his braid, or, if she hadn't been able to stop, there would have been at least a smile to let him know she saw him…she loved him…

Less than a year!

Like watching a ghost, he had thought. Elrond's eyes sparkled with unshed tears and rage as he watched Celebrian's silent figure turn a corner, closely followed by Arwen. Maybe he was. Celebrian's body might continue to live, but her spirit could well be lost.

0-0-0-0

She was sitting on their bed, and Elrond was watching her. To him, it seemed as though there was something insubstantial about her, her skin oddly translucent. Sometimes he expected to see the wine she drank flowing down her throat. No word had she spoken in all the long months since the twins had brought her home. No word; no _sound_. Truthfully, the elf lord would have been less worried if even her sleep were troubled. But no. She slept as she woke. As she ate. As she lived.

Silently. Mechanically.

She did not seem to _see _her surroundings; much less take interest in them. The beautiful blue eyes held a blank, unfocused look. Elrond approached the bed slowly, his heart heavy in his chest. He sat next to his wife and took her small, white hand in his larger one. Her skin was cool to the touch, and the fingers lay against his palm lifelessly. She showed no sign of being aware of his presence.

Slowly, Elrond reached out with his free hand and tucked a strand of silver blond hair behind her ear. He let the backs of his knuckles caress the smooth skin of her cheek for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut so that he couldn't see the blank, blue stare. There had been a time when a small gesture such as this would bring a warm tenderness to her eyes. It had been their affectionate gesture that he would always have time for, even if he could not stop to kiss her, or if childish eyes were watching them closely.

Now it seemed that she would live like this forever.

Forever.

Once, a very long time ago he had taken forever for granted. He remembered the day when he had spent a carefree afternoon on a beach beside his brother, and looked forward to forever, because it would be wonderful. His brother had left, and forever was tainted. Over the years, the pain had faded and forever meant something new. It meant his wife and his children who were elven and would follow him into forever.

Now, forever meant something very, very frightening. Forever without Celebrian? She was part of him. As bad as a life without her would be, this catatonic, frozen state was almost worse. She was here, but she was _not_ here. Her body was healthy but the most important part of her was missing. How was he to find it again? Where did he even start looking?

Tears slid from beneath his closed eyelids and slowly coursed down his cheeks.

He did not see the blue eyes flicker briefly and come into focus as his knuckles slid from her cheek. He did not see the fleeting tenderness that passed across her beautiful face, and by the time he opened his eyes her features were blank once more.

0-0-0-0

_April_

0-0-0-0

The first rains of spring began to wash winter's snow from the valley of Imladris. Though the rain was cold and the waters constantly threatened to flood the river, Elrond was pleased to see the thunderclouds gather. Autumn had been dry. Too dry. No rain had fallen since nearly midsummer. Before Celebrian…

Elrond sighed, his hands ceasing their work. The elf lord was using a few moments of time to sort through his healing herbs, selecting which were too dry, which needed to be replenished…the healing wing was empty for once. His helpers had been dismissed to other tasks. The spacious room contained only himself. And Celebrian. Elrond glanced over his shoulder at his wife. She was seated on one of the beds, her back to him, watching the rain pelt the glass in an unceasing torrent. At least, he assumed she was watching the rain. Her eyes still held that horribly blank, unfocused expression. Elrond had persuaded Arwen to go spend time with her brothers in the stables. The young elf maiden had hardly left her mother's side for months now, and she needed something to distract her.

Besides, there had been times when he had thought that there was awareness stirring in Celebrian's gaze. It only happened when she was alone with him. In the last few weeks she had begun to follow Elrond about instead of wandering aimlessly, and the lord of Imladris had felt a small flicker of hope, but nothing else had changed. With a deep sigh, Elrond bent his dark head over the dried leaves in his hands, concentrating on his task once more.

0-0-0-0

Rain spattering against glass.

That wasn't right. She hadn't been inside.

Silver brows drew together slowly in confusion. Hadn't she been outside? Yes, she had been traveling…the rain had started to fall as they passed through the Misty Mountains.

But the rain was hitting glass.

The glass was suddenly there, and _not _there. She was sitting on a bed.

She was astride a horse.

She was dry.

She was slowly becoming saturated as the rain soaked through the thin material of her gown.

She could hear the voices of her escort murmuring uneasily beneath the growing patter of the rain.

She could hear nothing but the soft sound of the rain hitting the glass.

Lightning flashed, thunder roared and she could see _them_.

Lightning flashed, thunder roared and Celebrian's blue eyes lost their blank, unfocused look as a scream ripped from her throat…as the memories returned…as her mind came back to face the horrors of reality…

0-0-0-0

The scream shocked him so badly that Elrond sliced his own hand. The elf lord whirled around to see his wife staggering to her feet, her hands pressed tightly over her ears, eyes screwed shut, her voice echoing against the walls of the infirmary.

"No! NO! Don't hurt them! Don't hurt them, please! PLEASE!"

Forgetting his hand, Elrond was at her side in a moment, folding Celebrian into his arms. She wept and pled with unseen assailants to spare her escort. Feeling his arms wrap strongly around her, she struggled and fought. "Let go of me! Let _go_! Help! Elrond! Help me! _HELP ME_!"

Her nails dug into the skin of his neck as she fought him desperately. Fear gave her thin limbs unnatural strength and the elf lord was hard put to keep her from scratching out his eyes. Elrond managed to catch hold of her wrists, calling out to her in Elvish. "_Celebrian! Nin si, meleth nin. Nin si! Avo 'osto, le bar!" _He could feel his throat closing in horror at her desperate, raging fear; her grief for the elves who had died trying to protect her.

Celebrian's eyes suddenly rolled back in her head and she went limp. Elrond caught her as she fell, almost relieved that she had taken refuge in unconsciousness. His stomach churned uneasily as he gently stroked hair away from her face. What would she be like when she awoke? Would she return to her catatonic state? Had she finally returned to him?

Speeding footsteps announced the arrival of others. The door to the infirmary burst open to admit the twins. Rain water dripped from black braids and plastered tunics to their slender bodies. The light of elven lords in wrath flared about them despite the humbleness of their chosen weapons. Elrohir grasped a pitchfork like a stave, and Elladan had a spear that Elrond vaguely recognized as a decoration that was mounted on the wall near the entrance of the healing wing. Obviously, they had come in answer to what they believed to be an attack upon their mother. Seeing only Elrond, holding Celebrian, the elder twin lowered the spear and stepped forward.

"_Ada_," Elladan gasped. "What happened? We could hear her all the way from the stables…" He broke off abruptly at the sight of blood dripping around his father's hand. "Is she hurt?"

Elrond quickly held up the hand, displaying it to his sons. "It is nothing. I was cutting herbs when she…when she started screaming…"

Elrohir leaned his pitchfork against the wall and fetched a length of linen bandage. Kneeling beside his father, the younger twin swiftly bound the wound. Black brows were drawn together in worried confusion as he worked, and his grey eyes sought his father's, begging for answers.

"I think it was the rain." Elrond felt drained, weakened. "She was staring out the windows, watching the rain fall. The lightning flashed, and I think that it brought her back to the night that she was…captured." A thick knot choked him for a moment. "I think she saw it all happening again. She was begging for _them_ not to be hurt…"

Elrohir raised an eyebrow. "Them?"

"Her escort," Elladan guessed, as his father nodded in agreement.

The lord of Imladris slowly pulled his wife's body close to his own, unconsciously rocking her. "She called for me. I wasn't there for her." Elrond could feel something within him coming close to a snapping point. He should have been able to protect her.

Elladan knelt beside him, grasping his shoulder tightly. "Do _not_ blame yourself, _ada_. If you had been there, you would have been killed. All the other warriors were. There were simply too many _yrch_."

"_Iston_," Elrond murmured. He _did_ know. His presence would have changed nothing, except that he too would now be dead.

0-0-0-0

Elrond sat in a chair near his wife's side. He had laid her on their bed and took up watch. Night had long ago fallen, but lightning still flickered across the inky sky. Thunder rumbled persistently, if softly.

And Celebrian did not wake. Her breathing was steady, but her eyes were closed, and she tossed and turned as though she could not escape her own mind.

He had tried to hold her. Tried to comfort her. She recoiled from his touch, and slept easier when he kept his distance.

He looked on her sleeping face, and in that one horrible instant, he knew what must be done to save her. The healer in him had seen the signs long before now, but as her husband he had sought to hold her tightly to his side.

He could not heal her.

He could not help her.

Elrond slowly bowed his head, putting his face in his hands and digging his fingers into his hair. He had no tears left. No anger. Only the sharp pain of his heart tearing itself to pieces inside his chest.

He didn't know how long he sat thus. When he finally straightened his shoulders, he was surprised to see Celebrian's eyes open, and observing him. Elrond swiftly leaned forward. "_Meleth._" He reached for her hand, but drew back at the last instant, remembering how she had not found comfort from his touch.

His heart sank lower when she did not reach for him. Whatever hope he had left evaporated.

Her blue eyes were dull. The playful sparkle that had always been there was gone. They were no longer blank, but the absence of her mind was replaced with painful awareness. Slowly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Tangles locks of hair straggled around her face, but she did not move to push it out of her eyes.

Lightning flashed, and Celebrian flinched. Elrond ached to hold her tightly and tell her that everything would be all right. He knew that he could not. It would be a lie. He had never lied to his wife in the 2400 years of their marriage, and he did not think that this would be the right time to start.

He sighed, and it sounded like the last breath of a mortal man. He would do what he must. As much as it would pain him to be separated from her, he could not bear to watch her linger in fear and torment and possibly fade altogether. Not when she could be healed in Valinor.

Elrond rose to his feet. Always he had paced when thoughts troubled him. Habit carried him on, though his feet felt like they were filled with lead. The lightning flashed again, illuminating their bedchamber. Celebrian's thin form was suddenly lit with stark brightness and harsh shadow. She closed her eyes against it and pushed her hands over her ears; trying to block out the sound of thunder.

The elf lord was torn. He wanted so badly to comfort her. But he didn't quite dare touch her for fear that he would only cause her more grief.

The rolling boom of thunder died, and in the silence that followed, Elrond could hear Celebrian's soft whimpers of fear.

He could stand it no longer. With two strides he reached the bed and drew her into his arms. Her slim body stiffened, but he held her gently, rocking back and forth.

Gradually, bit by bit, he could feel the muscles in her shoulders relax. Her body finally leaned against him, and she heaved a deep, shuddering sigh.

But her arms did not reach to embrace him.

"Celebrian," he whispered against her hair. "_meleth nin…keluvalye mí cair._"

He felt her start. He had surprised her. Celebrian drew back and looked up into his face. Slowly, her eyebrows drew together in confusion as her eyes passed over his features. She could see that he was serious. Confusion seeped away to be replaced by weariness. Biting her lip, she shook her head once before lowering it to his shoulder once more.

Now he was surprised. "You do not wish to leave?" Even as he asked the question, he felt his heart sink further into his toes. He knew her hesitance did not come from the desire to stay.

She did not move, and the elf lord realized with a pang that he had no idea what was going through her mind. She was responding to him…in a way. He supposed he should be grateful for small miracles, but it pained him to know that the only time he had heard his wife's voice in nearly half a year was in the screams from a horrible memory.

"_Gwestin_."

The word was so soft that he almost didn't hear it. Elrond froze, his heart beating hard. "_M…man?_" Had she really spoken, or was he so desperate for her voice that he was starting to experience delusions?

She drew back once more and tilted her face to look up at him. "I promised that I would never choose to leave."

For a moment, he was tempted to forget the matter. She would stay. She would stay with him, and he would love her…

Elrond forced himself to look into her eyes.

There was dead silence, broken only by the patter of the rain against the windows.

No joy. No peace. No real desire to stay. All that remained in her gaze was fear, and death and despair. Was he so selfish as to allow her to sacrifice herself in this manner?

"You are not choosing to leave." Slowly, he brought one hand up and cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. "I am sending you."

The Celebrian of old would have fought with him. She would have protested violently and refused to be parted from him and their children. Her eyes would have flashed with indignation and she would have pushed herself out of his arms in anger.

Less than a year ago, she would have done all that and more.

Now, she looked into his eyes, sighed, and nodded.

Elrond pulled her close again, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

But she still did not reach to embrace him.

0-0-0-0

The sky was gray and dismal, with the promise of rain hanging in the air. A brisk, autumnal wind that would have seemed pleasant under the tress of Imladris felt cold against Elrond's face. Dark strands of hair whipped about him, and the smell of the sea filled his nostrils. His heart sank within him. It was time. The elf lord reigned in his horse and held up his hand, so that those behind him would do the same.

He could see the havens clearly. The ship that would take his wife from him moved slowly with the rolling of the iron gray waves.

Elrond dismounted and strode to Celebrian's side. She sat motionless astride her pretty roan mare, blue eyes fixed on the ship.

The scent of salty brine, coupled with the lapping of the waves woke memories deep within Elrond's brain. Memories of a brilliantly sunny day when he had sat beside Elros…

He forced himself not to think on it. His attention was needed for the matter at hand. Stretching up a hand, he gently touched Celebrian's fingers. They were cold. They were always cold now. As light as his touch was, his wife flinched. She had been focused on the ship, and had not seen him approach. If possible, his heart sank further within his chest, like a ball of lead. Ever since she had come out of her comatose state she could hardly stand to be touched. Celebrian realized that her reaction gave pain to her loved ones, and strove to control herself, but the shudder was instinctive.

Elrond held out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Celebrian allowed him to assist her in dismounting. The moment her small feet touched the earth, she withdrew her slender fingers. The pathway leading to the ship was not long. A simple, narrow strip of trodden ground that wound down a small hill directly onto the dock.

It was a strange procession that traversed the path. Leaving their horses at the top of the hill, Elrond descended first, followed by Celebrian and his children. The elf lord had never found such a short distance so very hard to walk. His heart kept wailing for him to stop, but his head ordered him to continue on. He could not afford to listen to his heart.

As soon as his family stepped onto the pier, the twins halted. They had already decided that this was as far as they would go. They must say their goodbyes to their mother here.

Celebrian turned and allowed her children to embrace her. Elrond could see her steeling herself in the rigidity of her spine, but prayed that neither the twins nor Arwen would notice.

Elladan and Elrohir held her carefully, as though they were afraid she would shatter. Arwen was less reserved. She buried her face in her mother's shoulder, and wound her arms about Celebrian's waist. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders and blended with the silver blonde locks that had escaped the elder elf woman's braid.

Celebrian did not speak. She so rarely spoke. But she rested her cheek against Arwen's head for a moment, before gently disentangling herself. For a moment it seemed that Arwen might not release her hold. Elladan placed a firm hand on her shoulder and she unwillingly allowed her mother to pull herself free.

As Celebrian turned and silently continued on her way, Elrond paused, gray eyes fastened on his children. Their faces were drawn; strained and agonized. Elladan and Elrohir were having some success in keeping their pain from twisting their features, but Arwen was not. Silent tears poured down pale cheeks as her eyes locked on the slender elf woman who was gliding away. Her whole body was trembling with unvoiced grief as she clung to Elladan, her fingers twisting into his tunic. Elrond's firstborn wrapped his arm around her as Elrohir gripped her shoulder.

The younger twin met their father's gaze. "You had better hurry, _Ada_," he said, voice rough with emotion. He opened his mouth to say more, but only a choking sound came forth. Elrohir bit his lip quickly to prevent any further noise from escaping.

Elrond knew what he was thinking. Neither of them was entirely certain that Celebrian would wait for him to say goodbye. Though it pained him to turn his back on his children when they were so obviously hurting, he had no choice.

Long legs quickly caught up with Celebrian, and they continued down the pier together in silence.

The ship was small, but appeared to be sturdily built. Soft gray in color, it almost seemed to blend into the waves and the sky.

Small droplets of rain were beginning to fall, pattering gently over the waves.

Like tears.

They reached the gangplank and Elrond halted. To his slight surprise, so did Celebrian. His wife turned to him and he gazed at her, aware that this was the last he would see of her for a long, long time.

His heart twisted in his chest painfully. He wanted her to stay! He wanted to see her smile and hear her laugh! It hurt him to see her like this. Her spirit broken; her joy gone.

Elrond closed his eyes against the sorrow that was flooding him. The bleak knowledge that if she stayed, he would not be able to heal her. She would eventually fade away. With an effort, he pushed his grief back and opened his eyes.

Celebrian was gazing at him, blue eyes troubled.

"_Namarië, meleth nin,_" Elrond finally forced his tongue to work. He couldn't stand this much longer. If she didn't get onto the boat soon, he was going to beg her to stay.

"_Namarië,_" she whispered. Her eyes slid to the ship, then back to him. With deliberate care, she placed her small hands on his shoulders, went upon the tips of her toes, and pressed her lips against his.

Elrond did not dare to move for fear that if he held her now, he would not be able to let go. Her kiss was gentle, sweet, almost like a very young child. Her lips were cold, and the slender fingers trembled.

After a moment she stepped back. There were tears brimming in her eyes and sliding silently down white cheeks, blending with the raindrops. For a moment, she looked very much like Arwen. "_Melethon le, Elrond,_" she said quietly, her voice even despite her tears.

"And I you," he replied, fighting back a howl of misery. "To the end of the time."

For the briefest of seconds, her lips twitched, as though she would smile. "Forever," she murmured. A promise.

Celebrian drew in a deep breath, squared her small shoulders and stepped onto the gangplank. She moved with uncommon grace, as she always had. Her slim figure was erect, head held high.

She never looked back.

0-0-0-0

The ship had disappeared rapidly into the monochromatic horizon. Long after he had lost sight of the sails, Elrond continued to gaze into the West. Standing at the end of the pier, the rain pattering gently. The sky wept for him.

Surely the right thing to do now would be to fall on his knees, howling and cursing and weeping until the pain inside was gone. Only, it would never _be_ gone. He of all people knew that the loss of a loved one was an agony that did not disappear with time. It would grow less. It would grow bearable, but to weep until it had vanished would be impossible. He would be howling until the end of Arda. Besides…

The Lord of Imladris turned and gazed back toward his children. They stood huddled together. Arwen had buried her face in Elladan's tunic, and the twins were attempting to comfort her and each other. He had to be strong for them.

He began to walk towards them. As he approached, he could hear Arwen's muffled weeping.

"She did not even look back," the elf maid wailed brokenly, fingers twisting in her brother's tunic. "She did not look back…"

The twins were obviously at a loss. They could say nothing to comfort her, their own pain ran too deep. Elrohir met his father's gaze as Elrond approached, and the elf lord could see the anguish sparkling in gray depths.

He had to be strong for them.

"Arwen," Elrond called softly. The elleth raised a tear-stained face to see her father holding his arms out to her. Still sobbing, the dark-haired elf maid released her brother in trade for her father.

Elrond wrapped one arm around her and beckoned to his sons with the other. The twins came forward eagerly, and for a time, their family clung to each other. Heedless of the rain that slowly saturated them, Elrond held his children close, offering them all the comfort he had to give.

He had to be strong for them.

0-0-0-0

For her sake, and for her sanity, he sent her to Valinor. He knew that he would see her again…someday. A long and bitter time of waiting would pass before then, but he was assured that his patience would be rewarded. When next he saw her, she would be returned to the beautiful color he knew and loved.

In the meantime, his children clung to him. Bereft of a vital component of their family twining, they felt their lives being pulled apart at the seams, and it was up to him to weave them back together. And he did. And the result was functional. It would never be as beautiful as it was supposed to be…there was too much missing. But it would work. Unconsciously, Elrond clung more tightly to his children than he had before. Surely it was enough…surely whomever was pulling the threads would realize that it was enough…that to take one more color would unravel everything…

0-0-0-0

_Nin si, meleth nin. Nin si! Avo 'osto, le bar!-I am here, my love. I am here! Do not fear, you are home!_

_Iston-I know_

_keluvalye mí cair-You will leave in the ship._

_Gwestin-I promised_

_Man?-What?_

_Namarië, meleth nin-Farewell, my love._

_Melethon le-I love you_

_Yrch-orcs_

**0-0-0-0**

**Okay, a chapter full of angsty goodness. :) Next chapter should return to semi-fluff, and be up in a week. I loves reviews!**


	7. Life Within the Ashes

**Well folks, it looks as though we have a lovely thing going here. This is the first story I think that I have ever written where I have not been late. I am determined to keep it up throughout the duration of the fic. :) (Watch, now a bolt of lightning will strike my computer) **

** Anyhoo, thank you for all the lovely reviews. Special thanks to the anonymous reviewers, alli and Tubolo. I appreciate every word you write. :) And now we leave behind the world of complete and total angst to traverse the sunny paths of the semi-fluffy. Hope you all enjoy!**

0-0-0-0

For a long time, (Most elves would not have considered it so _very_ long, but then, most elves did not have a spouse separated from them by an entire sea.) it seemed as though it was enough. There were times when he could have sworn that someone was _plucking_ at the threads. Taunting him. Showing him just how easily he could lose his sons; his daughter. But nothing happened. Indeed, another color was added.

He had woven himself into the elven tapestry with such speed and subtlety that Elrond was dumbfounded. And surprisingly delighted.

Estel.

0-0-0-0

Elrond paced the balcony slowly, gray eyes searching across his valley almost without ceasing. The elf lord sighed softly, crossing his arms over his chest. The twins were out hunting orc again.

Every year since…since Celebrian had sailed, they would set out on the first of June and hunt down the monsters. Elrond feared for them. Their anger was warping their judgment. He too knew the bitter rage that fueled their bloodlust, but constantly seeking revenge was twisting them. They were going to get themselves killed.

Elrond shuddered. He couldn't stand to lose them too.

Day was slowly drawing to a close. The sky was alight with red and gold as purple clouds chased each other slowly across the horizon. Soon the heavens would fade to a lavender gray, followed by the velvet blue black of the night. The stars would twinkle in the skies as the moon bathed Imladris in her silver glow.

Elrond sighed softly. He used to love this time of the year. The warmth of the sun; the vibrant green of the trees and the sweet scents of a land alive and bursting with growth. He and Celebrian would stand side by side to watch the sunset and count the stars as they appeared.

Now it was a time of sick fear as he watched his sons depart, and waited anxiously for their return. They always returned, but he could see the blackness in their souls as their lust for vengeance slowly grew; consuming them. They hid it well. While they dwelt in Imladris their faces were light and their voices merry. Only someone who was deeply familiar with them and watched them very closely would be able to catch glimpses of their darkness. But it was growing. Slowly and steadily. Soon it would become evident to all.

Arwen had seen it. She had grieved with him. The absence of her mother, and the gradual transformation of the twins was a burden she found too heavy to bear in the haven of Imladris. The memories of one whom she had loved and lost ate at her every day she spent in the valley. Perhaps one day it would not be so. For now, she chose to dwell in Lothlorien with her grandparents. He missed her, but understood. There were times when he too longed to depart from his home. Every so often the sweetness of old memories was as bitter as gall.

Elrond turned his back on the sunset; ignoring the beauty. When Celebrian had left, he no longer had the heart to await the appearance of the stars. He was too busy, he told himself. There was business to finish in his office, he was sure. In the back of his mind though, he knew that he wouldn't be able to stand there alone. It was too painful.

0-0-0-0

The soft tapping at the door of his study brought Elrond's head up sharply. What time was it? He had immersed himself in work and lost track of the hour. Now that he was brought back to reality, he realized that his neck was stiff and his eyes were tired. Surprised, he glanced at the window and was shocked to see that the sky outside had faded from purple blue to the gray hour before sunrise. Had he really been here all night?

Another tap caught his attention.

Swiftly, the elf lord stood and tugged at his somewhat rumpled robes. "Enter," he called, biting back a yawn.

The heavy door was pushed in, and a dark head appeared around the edge.

"Elladan," Elrond smiled in relief, quickly stepping around his desk to welcome his son. He embraced the slender young elf warmly and stepped back to greet Elrohir. Except Elrohir was not there. Elrond shot a questioning look at Elladan, and suddenly noticed that the elder twin's face was exceedingly grim. A bubble of panic rose swiftly in his throat.

"_Mas na Gwanor lin_?" He asked, his voice instantly sharpening in worry. Had Elrohir been injured? Had he…

"He is fine, _Ada_," Elladan said quickly. "I promise you, he is fine. He is in the infirmary, but it is not because he was injured." Elladan pinched the bridge of his nose with long fingers. There was a deep pain in his eyes, Elrond noted. But if Elrohir were not injured, then what had happened?

"Sit," Elrond quickly led his son to one of the chairs in his study. He noted that Elladan seemed weary. His clothing was dirty and torn, but that was not unusual after one of the twins orc hunting trips. A swift sideways glance was enough for him to determine that there were no visible injuries.

Elladan allowed himself to be pushed into the chair. Indeed, he seemed grateful to get off his feet. The tall elf was drooping. It was unusual. Normally, even at his most weary, Elladan's posture was almost ramrod straight.

Elrond seated himself on the edge of his desk. He leaned forward, eyebrows drawn together in a concerned line. "What happened?"

Elladan closed his eyes and let his breath out in a long sigh. "Arathorn rode with us on our hunt."

His father nodded. He knew whom Elladan referred to. The leader of the Dúnedain, and one of the last surviving heirs of Isildur. He had been married fairly recently, and unless Elrond was mistaken, his wife had born him a son. He had ridden with the twins before, and they spoke well of him, and his character. Elrond had been given the impression that his sons had formed a fairly strong bond with the man. He himself remembered Arathorn from when he was young. It had been the tradition of over a thousand years that the sons of the Dúnedain chieftains were fostered in Imladris for a time. Arathorn had been a happy child, but serious. Even as a very young man he took his responsibilities with deep devotion. Perhaps he was partially gifted with the foresight that sometimes followed Elros' descendants. It was not very long ago that he had been made chieftain, and for one of his race, it was relatively early. He was at the time, only fifty-six.

Elladan bowed his head suddenly and put his face in his hands. His fingers dug into frayed braids almost violently and his shoulders shook.

Elrond was shocked into paralysis momentarily. He had never seen his son act so…

"He was killed, _Ada_," Elladan's voice came out muffled from behind his hands. "An orc put an arrow through his eye."

"Oh, _ion nin_." Elrond felt his heart ache for his son. The elf lord reached out and placed a gentle hand on Elladan's shoulder. This was the burden of being a leader. When something went wrong, it was your fault. When everything went right, it was because your men worked hard. A leader took all the blame and none of the credit.

The younger elf straightened, trying to pull himself together. His face was lined with strain; gray eyes slightly wild.

"Elladan," Elrond reached out with his other hand and gripped his son firmly by the shoulders, forcing him to either look him in the eye or stare at the floor. "Elladan, Arathorn was a grown man. He knew the risks of fighting the enemy, and he was a warrior trained by elves. His death was _not_ your fault."

The younger elf's eyes met his father's, and Elrond felt his heart sink. Elladan had heard his words, and to some extent they had the intended effect.

"_Iston, Adar. Sereg Arathorn caita gil i yrch dhyl._" Elladan's words were cold, and clipped. "_Ve Naneth's_." For an instant, Elrond could plainly see the darkness he feared shining brightly in his son's eyes.

Elladan blinked, and it was gone again. Hidden beneath the smoky grey depths. The young elf lord squeezed his father's hand, then slowly rose to his feet. He still looked bone-weary. Again, the Lord of Imladris felt his heart contract painfully. Elladan was bearing a burden that would never grow easier. It would only continue to eat at his peace of mind unless he gave up the relentless thirst for retribution against the _yrch_.

"There is something else, _Ada_," Elladan said quietly, schooling his features into a smooth mask. "Arathorn's wife is here, along with their son. She knows that it is the custom of the Dúnedain to have their children fostered here, and that the boy would have come to us in time…but things have changed."

Yes. Yes they had. Elrond slowly sank back into a sitting position on the edge of his desk, stroking his chin with one hand. If Arathorn were dead, that meant that his son was the last of the line.

The last of Elros' direct descendants…

The boy would be in danger. His life would be sought by powers far greater than the remnants of the Dúnedain could hope to prevail against. The dark-haired elf rose to his feet abruptly. "Gilraen is here, you say?"

"She is in the infirmary, with Elrohir," Elladan said, nodding. "The child is with her. She really has born the ill tidings very well, but Elrohir thought she might need something for the shock. At the very least, the infirmary is quiet, and private…"

"And slightly less intimidating than my study or the hall of fire. Yes." Elrond was already moving towards the door, his mind spinning with the plan beginning to form. He knew what he would have to suggest to Gilraen, and it would not be easy for her. Though from what Elladan said, she might already be contemplating the exact same idea.

0-0-0-0

When the lord of Imladris entered his infirmary, he halted for a moment, surprised and slightly bemused.

Elrohir sat on one of the infirmary beds, his long legs stretched out (including the dirty boots) across clean sheets. A child was tucked into the crook of his arm, slumbering peacefully with its face pressed into the side of Elrohir's neck. A young woman was also seated on the bed, her eyes downcast and small hands folded into her lap.

Some instinct must have alerted her to another presence, for Elrond knew that neither he nor Elladan made any noise entering the room. She looked up, and met his gaze.

She was so young. More than a girl, but she could not have been above twenty-five. With quiet grace, she rose and bowed. She was dressed simply, in homespun skirt and blouse. Her dark hair was plaited and fell nearly to her waist. "_Hir nin_," she murmured. Straightening, she met Elrond's gray eyes with her own. They were large, framed with long lashes, and a surprising shade of silver. "I must ask you a great favor." Turning slightly, she held out her arms to Elrohir.

The young elf lord slowly rose from his semi-reclined position, taking care not to jostle the sleeping toddler. Gently, he placed Gilraen's son in her outstretched hands.

The young woman held him close to her body for a moment, eyes closed. "It has long been the tradition that our sons are placed in your care for a time," she whispered, stroking her child's dark curls tenderly. The young woman finally turned back to Elrond. Her eyes were glistening with pain. She suddenly seemed older. "We cannot protect him, _hir nin_. I…I must ask that you take him and shelter him as your own, until such a time as he is ready to hear the story of his people and his own destiny."

Elrond's heart went out to the young woman. He admired her strength of mind and purpose even as he recognized her grief. Bereft of husband, she was fully prepared to give up her one child so that he might continue to survive.

Gilraen's lips trembled as she held the toddler out to Elrond, but her hands were steady. Elrond gently took the boy into his arms, cradling him. The elf lord stroked back the dark hair from his round baby face. With a jaw popping yawn, the child opened his eyes and gazed up curiously into the new face above him.

Elrond froze in surprise for a moment. He definitely had his mother's eyes. Large, long-lashed, and silver. Elros' eyes, passed down through the long years. "His name?" the lord of Imladris asked softly.

"Aragorn," Gilraen answered brokenly. "But he should not keep it, until he is strong enough to bear the weight." Tears pooled in her silver eyes and slowly trickled down pale cheeks. "I would…I would like to know what name you will call him…" She opened her mouth to say more, but no words would come. The young woman's face crumpled in misery and she put her hands over her lips to stifle any sob that tried to escape. Elrond could suddenly see her knees shaking where she stood. Shock, he realized. The enormity of the day's events was beginning to set in.

Elrohir quickly stepped forward and put a comforting and supporting arm about the young woman. With gentle firmness, he pulled her back to the bed until she was once more seated on the edge. The younger twin was also heavily grieved by the loss of Arathorn. Elrond could see it in his eyes; in the strained lines around his mouth.

A chirruping crow of laughter suddenly broke the heavy stillness of the room. Elrond looked down in surprise to see the toddler chuckling to himself, his silver eyes fixed upon the intricate pattern of embroidery on the dark-haired elf's robe. Why this should have amused the child so, Elrond could not guess, but he could not prevent his lips from quirking into a smile.

To his surprise, neither could Gilraen. She chuckled herself. (weakly, but still…)

The name came to him all in a moment.

The elf lord stepped forward and knelt before the child's mother, so that he could look up into her face.

"We will call him, _Estel_."

0-0-0-0

Elrond paced his balcony once more, his mind reeling slightly from the events of the past few hours. It had been decided that Gilraen should dwell in Imladris also, for her sake as well as her son's. Rooms were being prepared for both of them. At the moment, Gilraen was sleeping the sleep of great physical, mental and emotional exhaustion within the infirmary. She was strong. A child of ancient kings. Elrond could only hope that she and Arathorn had passed such strength to their son.

As if realizing that the elf lord was thinking of him, the toddler in Elrond's arm kicked his legs vigorously, a sign that he wished to be set down.

Obeying his energetic request, Elrond set the child on his feet and observed in amazement as the boy ran in circles around the balcony in the strange waddling way of small children. He did not seem remotely tired, though he must have been awake most of the night.

After Gilraen had fallen asleep, Elrond saw that Estel was still moving about actively and decided to take the child with him. He saw that if Estel stayed where he was, Gilraen was not likely to get the rest she so desperately needed. The Lord of Imladris left word with the healer on duty that Estel was in his care, should the young woman awake.

He doubted very much that she would. Elrond shook his head sorrowfully. So young, to receive such grief.

With a sigh, the elf lord turned his attention back to the toddler. He had plopped himself down and was absorbed in the process of removing the small knitted socks that covered his feet.

"No, no," Elrond caught hold of his hand. "We do not wish to lose the socks, do we, _tithen pen_?"

Estel looked up into Elrond's face and smiled sweetly.

The elf lord was dumbfounded. He _recognized_ that look. It was his brother's. Elros would always smile just so…and then do exactly as he wished. Biting his lip to keep from smiling, Elrond sternly pulled Estel's pudgy fingers away from his socks. "No," he repeated.

Unabashed, the toddler quickly pushed himself to his feet and made a dash toward the balcony railing.

Elrond was not particularly worried. Long ago, when the twins were babes, he and Celebrian had ensured that the decorative posts that held up the rail were too close together for even the slender elven children to slip through. This chubby human child would never fit.

He was certainly going to try his hardest though…

With a cry of surprise, Elrond leapt forward and caught hold of Estel before the small boy managed to squeeze his deceptively round body through the posts and plunge to his death. Gently, the dark-haired elf lord drew the child back. The fair being settled himself into a sitting position and set Estel on his lap.

"It is a wonder you are still awake," he muttered, half to himself, half to the chubby imp who was beaming up at him unabashedly.

Looking down, Elrond could not stop the corners of his mouth from softening into a smile.

The boy was adorable.

His dark hair curled and waved down to his shoulders. Chubby cheeks and long lashes gave him an almost angelic appearance. There was a glint of mischief in his silver eyes that saved him from being _too_ perfect, but only increased his charm. The elf lord shook his own raven head ruefully. He suspected that the precocious toddler already had an idea of how to use his long-lashed eyes to get what he wanted. The elves of Imladris best be on guard, lest they too be swayed by this seemingly innocent mischief maker.

Estel's plump lips stretched into a yawn. He rubbed dimpled fingers into his eyes, trying to keep them open.

Elrond's smile grew more tender as the child surrendered to the inevitable and cuddled himself against the elf lord's bulk.

"You remind me of my own sons, when they were very small," the Lord of Imladris said softly, stroking the dark curls. They were silky to the touch. "I would walk on this very balcony when they were wakeful," he continued, his deep voice a soothing murmur. "Celebrian would join me at times." He hadn't meant to mention her. Hadn't meant to revisit the aching spot in his heart that longed for her presence. "We would stay awake together and count the stars as they appeared." They would watch Eärendil sail across the heavens. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they would just enjoy one another's company.

The ache was there, just as it always had been. Oh, how he missed her. Elrond leaned his head back against the balcony railing and closed his eyes.

The stirring in his arms brought him back to reality abruptly. The elf lord opened his eyes and looked down at the child he held, trying to smile for the benefit of the boy.

Estel's head was cocked to the side questioningly, silver eyes observing him.

He was being silly. He should not have brought the child to this place, where so many memories lingered. Once sweet, they had been tainted with a bitter aftertaste. Just as his memories of Elros had been for the longest time. Until Celebrian forced him to face his feelings towards his brother and the reason why he no longer drew near others.

Celebrian was no longer here to make him face himself.

Elrond started as a small hand patted his face to get his attention. His eyes focused on the child and he sighed. "_Man na den, tithen pen_?" He had spoken without thinking, in the grey tongue. The child probably had no idea what he was saying…

"_Dim_?"

It was the first time Elrond had heard the boy's voice. And he was very surprised. Apparently, Arathorn and Gilraen spoke Sindarin as well as Common in their home.

"Am…I …sad?" He finally managed to ask, still slightly shocked that the child had addressed him in elven.

The boy nodded, his small brows knotting together.

The elf lord sighed. "Yes, I am."

There was silence for a few moments as Elrond wondered if he should try to explain (or even if he could) to this small boy _why_ he was sad.

He did not need to. As soon as he heard the fair being's words, the boy's brows unbent, and his lower lip trembled. Estel stood, bracing his chubby legs on Elrond's folded ones and wrapped his arms around the elf lord's neck. "_Avo dim, saes._"

For a moment, the dark-haired elf was frozen in place. Slowly, he wound his arms around the tiny body and buried his face into the boy's shoulder; accepting the comfort that was offered.

With that one, small gesture, Estel sunk roots deep into Elrond's heart. Elrond would realize in years to come that he came to love the boy the moment his small child's voice asked him not to be sad.

0-0-0-0

Humans had stories of changelings being traded for their babies. Faerie young, in place of the human child. If all young children were as delightful as the toddler, Elrond could see why the Faeries would desire the swap. He hadn't intended to allow Estel a place in his mangled and repaired tapestry. Here at least was one life he knew would not be there forever. However, before he knew what had happened, the human's bright and playful spirit was shining through the elven threads; bringing color and beauty back into something that had been purely functional for too long. He loved the human child as fiercely as though the boy had been his own son. There were times when Estel reminded him sharply of Elros. A look, a graceful movement…the proclivity to entangle himself in any and all kinds of trouble… Rather than increasing Elrond's pain from the absence of his brother, Estel alleviated the constant ache. Like Celebrian before him, he pushed himself deep into the fabric of Elrond's existence. The Lord of Imladris knew that at some point he would have to relinquish Estel to the grip of his mortal existence, but for some reason, the knowledge did not make him bitter. Not as with Elros. Estel was human. He would die one day, but he did not have the choice that Elros had. For that alone, Elrond found he could open his heart to the child. When Estel left the circles of Arda, it would not be by his own decision.

0-0-0-0

_Mas na gwanor lin?-Where is your brother?_

_Iston, Adar. Sereg Arathorn caita gil i yrch dhyl. Ve Naneth's.-I know, Father. The blood of Arathorn is upon the hands of the orcs_

_Hir nin-my lord_

_Estel-hope_

_Tithen pen-little one_

_Dim?-Sad?_

_Avo dim, saes.-Do not be sad, please._

0-0-0-0

**There you go. Semi-fluff. Next chapter should be fairly fluffy too. Give everyone a little time to recover from chp 5 and 6. :) Thanks for reviewing everyone! Pleeeeeeaaaaaaaasssssseeeee do so again! :) :) :) :)**


	8. Hope Grows

**Hello again to all. Well, my computer was NOT struck by lightning (not yet anyway), so I am once more posting on time. :) Many many thanks to all who reviewed, and special thanks to the anonymous reviewers, Danielle and Tubolo.**

**I have to say, this was probably one of my favorite chapters to write. Totally wasn't intending to have it at first, but the idea kind of grew in my mind, and I couldn't get rid of it, so I brought up the concept with my outstanding Beta, and she also believed that it would make a good episode in Elrond's life. In fact, as soon as I brought up the idea, she ran to her copy of Return of the King and whipped out the quote. She's awesome that way. Let me know what y'all think! As I may have mentioned once or twice (or begged for shamelessly countless times) I looooooooove reviews. :)**

**Enjoy the fic! Another chapter of semi-fluff awaits!**

**0-0-0-0**

Years passed, and Estel grew. Too quickly, Elrond mourned, but then, he had thought the same thing with his own, much more slowly growing children. With Estel however, it seemed that Elrond had barely chance to draw breath and the toddler with large gray eyes had turned into a man with a permanent shadow of stubble on his square jaw.

0-0-0-0

**_Return of the King, Appendix A: The Tale of Aragorn and Arwen_**

_But when Estel was only twenty years of age, it chanced that he returned to Rivendell after great deeds in the company of the sons of Elrond; and Elrond looked at him and was pleased, for he saw that he was fair and noble and was early come to manhood, though he would yet become greater in body and in mind. That day therefore Elrond called him by his true name, and told him who he was and whose son; and he delivered to him the heirlooms of his house._

0-0-0-0

"_Hir nin?_"

Elrond looked up, only mildly surprised at the interruption. He had, in fact, been expecting it all day, to the great detriment of his focus on the task at hand. Truly, he could not even remember what the task at hand _was_, much less why he was supposed to be doing it. A wide smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he saw Glorfindel leaning against the open door. The blond seneschal was smiling back broadly, a twinkle in his eyes.

"They are back!" Elrond rose to his feet swiftly, nearly upsetting the inkwell at his elbow. His sons; the twins and Estel had been away for many weeks now. Elladan and Elrohir had taken it upon themselves to introduce their younger brother to the joys (and hardships) of living in the wild. Not that they had not taken him camping before, but this would be a new experience. This was actual _living_ amidst the wilderness. The twins had assured their father that when Estel returned (if he returned, the elder elf had murmured drily) he would be a new man.

A man...

As he pushed past Glorfindel, Elrond allowed himself to slip into contemplation. His feet continued to carry him on, while his attention drifted inward.

Tomorrow would be Estel's birthday. He would be 20 years of age. By the standards of normal men, he had been an adult for several years already. For the descendants of Arnor, he was very young to shoulder the responsibilities of grown men. A vision of the youth floated briefly before Elrond's eyes.

Gangly, tall and smooth-cheeked he grinned impishly. Dark hair waved around his face, which still held some of the roundness of youth. The silver eyes had remained the same over the past 18 years, and Elrond's initial assessment had been correct. He _did_ know how to use them. Elf after elf of the Last Homely House fell to the charm of those wide, long-lashed eyes.

It had not always been easy for Estel to grow surrounded by elves. Adolescent clumsiness had been a sore trial for the poor lad. However, he had a core of steel. Events that would have crushed a lesser spirit only made him stronger. More able to face the darkness that seeped from the borders of the black land.

Elrond shook his dark head ruefully. He did not want to think on that now. The boy was only twenty years old! That day was many years in the future yet.

The elf lord realized (again with mild surprise) that he had reached the top of the stairs. Looking down, he could see the raven heads of Elladan and Elrohir. The two appeared to be unharmed, though their clothing was definitely the worse for wear. Standing between them, however, was a human with whom Elrond was not familiar. Where was Estel?

A small frown line furrowed the space between Elrond's dark brows as he began to descend the staircase. Perhaps Estel had already gone to his room? If that was the case, then who was this stranger?

He was tall, though not as tall as the twins. Dark hair was bound back away from his face, and his clothes were at least as worn as his elven companions. The face was lean, and covered with a rough coating of stubble. A thin white scar was visibly on his upper lip; evidence of a recent injury. Elrond realized with surprise, that he was in fact, fairly young. His shoulders were broad, but his frame remained slender, giving the impression that he would grow still more. An air of nobility surrounded him, despite the humbleness of his attire. He stood straight and exuded an air of confidence that gave him more years than he must have possessed in reality.

The man looked up suddenly and met Elrond's gaze. A grin split the bearded cheeks, wrinkling the wide, silver eyes.

Elrond gasped. "Estel!"

The twins burst out laughing at their father's expression. "Has he changed so much, _ada_?" Elladan chuckled, clapping his younger brother on the shoulder.

Estel was laughing too, obviously amused at Elrond's reaction. "Yes, _ada_," he chortled. "It is me, I assure you."

Elrond shook his head in amazement. Human children had always seemed to grow up in the moment he looked the other direction, but he had never seen such an abrupt change before. Estel had grown taller; broader. He no longer seemed to be all legs and arms, and he moved with grace and assurance. It seemed only yesterday that this same youth had been afraid to cross the hall for fear he would trip over his own feet.

No longer.

As Elrond descended the stairs, he felt the bittersweet pang that every parent endured as they watched their children grow. The little boy with dimpled knuckles and round cheeks was only a memory now.

The twins came forward and embraced their father, followed by the young human. Pulling back, Elrond held him at arm's length for a moment; his gray eyes traveling over his youngest son's form.

The round cheeks were certainly gone, as was the baby smoothness. The elf lord shook his head in wonder. Who would have thought that a few months would have brought such a change? He frowned slightly and touched the scar on Estel's face briefly.

"Ah," the young man brought his own hand up semi-self-consciously. He grimaced briefly, as though slightly embarrassed. " Twas my own fault." He grinned ruefully. "We were battling with a group of raiders, and I did not keep up my guard. I saw the blade heading for my head and pulled back, but I was a little too slow." His thumb brushed the thin white line gently. "I suppose I should be grateful that a small scar is all I have to show for my carelessness."

"Rest assured, _ada,_" Elrohir interjected, "Elladan berated him soundly, and informed him of what exactly should happen if he were to be so foolish again."

"Yes," Estel nodded, silver eyes sparkling with mischief. "I believe he was most concerned for my health, although at the moment his primary worry seemed to be that if anything serious happened to me, you would beat him."

"Quite," Elladan said drily as his brothers and father laughed heartily. "I recall that I was primarily interested in my younger brother's well being."

"Aye," Elrohir grinned. "Which is why he went on to catalog all of the insults in _Arda_ that could possibly apply to Estel. Some of them very creative, and some in terms that should not have been uttered in the tender ears of one so young."

"They were in dwarven," Elladan said innocently as Elrond shot at him a look of reproach. "I am certain he could not understand what I was saying."

"Enough!" The lord of Imladris was chuckling softly. "To your chambers, all of you. Bathe, first of all. I did not wish to be indelicate, but unless something is done soon, my hall will be forever imbued with the not so subtle aroma of weary travelers."

This evoked a general laugh. The twins jostled each other and Estel, all three claiming that it was the others that smelled, and not themselves. Elrond quickly raised his hands, silencing them. He did not wish to become involved in (or, worse still, possibly called on to judge) a contest of which son smelled the worst. "Please, _iyn nin_! As I was saying, once you have bathed, I believe you will find that a dinner has been prepared, and that your father will enjoy eating amongst your company." His dry tone softened on the last few words, and a tender smile graced his features. "I have truly missed you all." His sons embraced him _en masse, _and the elf lord was surprised once again to discover that his arms would no longer encircle all three, slender as they were. He sighed softly. The ending of an era was approaching much more quickly than he had ever dreamed.

"Enough!" The dark-haired elf released his offspring and waved them away affectionately. "Away! I will see you shortly."

All three of Elrond's sons quickly mounted the stairs. He pretended not to notice, but was completely aware that their ascent had turned into a race before they had gone more than three steps.

0-0-0-0

The evening had flown by in a whirl of laughter and a glowing sense of contentment. Elrond had observed his sons' antics with delight, and listened to their tales. Estel had done great things while in the company of his brothers, and Elrond was well pleased with his youngest son. Courage, he had in plenty. Nobility, also. A sense of compassion that led him to stand for those who could not defend themselves. Everything that could be expected of and hoped for in one of the descendents of Elros.

Neither the twins nor the young man had stayed up particularly late, however. They had traveled long and hard to reach Rivendell, and all were tired from their journey. By the end of dinner, the dark-haired human had been hiding yawns behind his hand, and he did not possess a large enough hand to do the job adequately.

Gilraen had not been present at dinner, though Estel assured Elrond that he had seen her. Smiling sheepishly, the young man confessed that he had gone to be with her before he had even bathed, opening himself up to many teasing remarks from his brothers.

Back in his study, Elrond twirled a quill between his long, slender fingers as he pondered Gilraen's absence. Perhaps after seeing her son she had needed time to think. He knew that _he_ had. Estel had changed quickly. More quickly than either of them had anticipated. Perhaps it was time...

"May I enter, Lord Elrond?"

Elrond looked up from his desk to see Gilraen standing in the doorway of his study. A gentle smile tweaked his lips and he quickly stood and beckoned her inside. "Please do." He waited until the small woman had seated herself before settling back into his chair. "I saw Estel when he returned with Elladan and Elrohir. He has grown."

Gilraen nodded. She had not changed a great deal in the past 18 years. She lived among the elves of Imladris, but Elrond suspected that she missed her own people. Always polite and gracious, she yet had few friends as she did not speak often, and laughed even more rarely. With the death of her husband, she had become very solemn. Elladan and Elrohir had informed him that this was not always the case, but Elrond knew well how the loss of those close to you could shape your character.

The woman sighed softly. "I have also seen Estel. And you are right. He has grown. He is...a man."

Elrond steepled his fingers together. So her thoughts were in tune with his own. "You think that the time has come for him to know his heritage, and the destiny that accompanies it."

"Yes." Her silver eyes met Elrond's gaze steadily. He had always appreciated that Gilraen spoke plainly, and did not hesitate to meet his eyes. "He is not ready to carry out his fate," she said slowly, "but it is time he knew."

The dark-haired elf lord nodded. "I too, believe that it is time. He has come early to manhood, for one of your race."

"Not so early for those of the eldar, _hir nin?_" A gentle smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, though it did not stretch to her eyes.

"No," Elrond chuckled. "I must admit, I was very surprised to see the boy that left replaced by a tall, bearded man." His smile became wistful. "I am going to miss the boy."

Gilraen nodded in understanding. "_Iston, hir nin._ It is the way of the world, but I do not believe that it grows easy for any race to see their young ones grow to adulthood."

With quiet grace, the small woman rose and bowed, before gliding silently from the room.

Long after she had gone, Elrond remained where he sat, lost in thought. Before his mind's eye he saw a whole host of Estel. Memory chased memory around and around his brain as he buried himself in contemplation of the past.

They were happy memories.

Estel, nearing four years of age and riding Elladan's shoulders. Shrieking in glee as the tall elf leapt and bounded and skipped.

Estel, receiving his first lessons in horsemanship from Elrohir, his small face furrowed in deep concentration as he strove to remain atop his extremely sedate and very fat pony.

Practicing archery with Glorfindel at his side, directing him.

Stretched in front of the fire like an overlarge cat, his long legs kicking the air as he begged cheerfully for a tale from Elrond.

Following the twins and awakening them to their bloodlust. Saving them.

Silver eyes wide with innocence, all the while twinkling with concealed laughter.

Yes. Elrond would truly miss the boy, Estel.

Slowly, the elf lord pushed himself to his feet and crossed his study. On the shelves there lay a carved box. Elrond lifted it down carefully, gently stroking the aged wood. It was not overly large, but the contents were immensely important. The dark-haired elf set the chest on his desk and opened the lid.

Nestled inside were a curious assortment of objects. A crude, casual eye would say that there was nothing of great value.

A sword, shattered into pieces, though the hilt was intact.

A silver ring, fashioned in the shape of two serpents and set with a green stone.

A scepter, of obviously ancient design.

And a single white gem. The Star of Elendil.

These were the heirlooms of the kingdom to which Estel was the heir.

No. Not Estel.

Aragorn.

0-0-0-0

The morning had dawned brightly. Clear, yellow sunlight filtered through the windows and spilled over the objects sitting in front of Elrond. The elf lord was not seated at his desk, but pacing. Estel would be here soon, and then Estel would be superseded by Aragorn.

A knock at the door brought the Lord of Imladris to a halt. He took a deep breath, and then another for good measure. "Enter," he called clearly.

The heavy door pushed silently over the carpeted floor, and Estel peered into the room. "Elladan said you wished to see me, _Ada_?"

Elrond could not help but smile at the sight of his son. "I do indeed, _ion nin_. Please, come in, and close the door."

The young man did as he was bid and proceeded to fling himself into the most comfortable armchair in the room, his lanky leg hooked over the arm, hands folded across his stomach. Elrond actually had to bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. For an instant, Estel seemed to have regressed into childhood. "I hardly believe that a few months has been a sufficient length of time for you to forget everything you have learned with regards to the proper use of furniture," Elrond remarked drily, crossing his arms over his chest.

Grinning apologetically, Estel quickly straightened himself. "My apologies,_ Ada_. It is just so good to be home once more. I believe that I even missed being scolded."

This time Elrond did laugh. Still chuckling, the elf lord settled himself at his desk. His gray eyes fell on the objects sitting before him, and the chuckle slid into a sigh. "Estel, I have something very important to tell you."

Immediately, all teasing and ridiculousness dropped from his son's face, and the young man leaned forward. He was listening. His face was so changed. It was a man's face...and yet still retained the freshness of youth. It was as Gilraen had said. He was prepared to know what lay in store for his life, but the lines of experience that would help him win his destiny were not present.

Elrond nodded in approval. One slender hand gestured to the items in front of him. The ring, the shards of the broken sword, the scepter, and the gem. "Do you know what these are, Estel?"

"They are the heirlooms of the old kingdom," the youth answered immediately. "You've had them since Aranarth was fostered here."

"Precisely." Elrond leaned forward slightly. "It has been the tradition of the Dúnedain that their sons; more specifically, the chieftain's sons, are fostered here, for a time."

Estel remained silent. Elrond was not telling him anything he did not know.

"Things were different for you," Elrond continued. "You have not been fostered the short time that was traditional. You have been raised among us, as my own son." Elrond rose and began pacing again almost unconsciously. "Your mother and I agreed that until such a time as you were strong enough to bear your true name (he saw Estel start out of the corner of his eye but continued speaking), you should have another. I chose it for you, as a reminder to her and to myself."

The silver eyes were wide, but the young man did not interrupt.

Elrond lifted the ring of Barahir from the desktop and came around his desk until he was standing in front of his son. Lifting Estel's left hand, the elf lord slid the ring into place on his forefinger. "Here is the ring of Barahir," he said. "The token of our kinship from afar. And here also," he turned back to the desk and lifted the hilt of the shattered blade, "are the shards of Narsil." Elrond presented the hilt to the young man, who took it in his right hand like one who walked in a dream, and was not sure what was real, or if he would wake up. "With these you may yet do great deeds," Elrond continued. "for I foretell that the span of your life shall be greater than the measure of Men, unless evil befalls you, or you fail at the test." At these words, clarity snapped back into the silver eyes. Elrond could almost see the gears shifting in Estel's mind as he put two and two together and realized what 'test' Elrond spoke of. "But the test will be hard and long," Elrond affirmed the look on the young man's face. "The Sceptre of Annúminas I withhold, for you have yet to earn it." He _would_ earn it, Elrond knew. In the earning of it, the hard lines of grief and perseverance and experience would be traced over the fresh skin of his face.

Estel sat in semi-stunned silence for a moment. Straightening, his silver eyes flashed, and for an instant Elrond saw Elros staring at him through the long years that separated them. There was no anger, no self-pity for the hardness of his fate. Only joy. The terrible joy that graced the faces of men charging to a battle. "I will earn it, _Adar," _he said firmly. There, in his face, Elrond saw the core of steel that was the birthright of Gilraen and Arathorn. She had indeed passed her strength to her son, as the lord of Imladris had hoped would be the case.

Elrond looked on his son with tenderness. "You have grown into manhood sooner than I expected. I am heartily pleased with you, _ion nin_, and I give you your name back." Placing a hand atop the young man's head, Elrond had to pause for a moment and breathe deeply. The time had come. Now with his name and his destiny before him, this child would no longer be only Estel, son of Elrond.

"Aragorn," Elrond said clearly. "Son of Arathorn. Lord of the Dúnedain, and heir to the throne of Gondor."

Bending down, the elf lord stroked the dark, wavy hair back from his son's forehead and kissed Estel goodbye.

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Elrond feared for Aragorn as he grew. Feared that the experiences he endured would fade the brilliant color of his spirit, like Celebrian.

He did not fade. He deepened. The trials he faced as he drew near the time of his destiny pulled harsher aspects of survival to the surface, but they also refined the very noblest facets of his character. The bright threads he had woven into the tapestry were polished to reveal themselves as pure gold, without a hint of alloy.

Elrond knew, long before Aragorn informed him of the betrothal that Arwen had bound her silver to his gold. When Aragorn's presence was pulled away, Arwen would go with him. He loved them all the more deeply; holding tightly; almost desperately to the time he had left.

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_Iston hir nin-I know, my lord_

_Ada-father(dad)_

_Adar-father_

_Ion nin-My son_

_Iyn nin-my sons_

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**There you go. Hope you all like it! A couple people mentioned the potential story line involving the twins, and I am going to break one of my long time standing rules and say that I DID write out a story with Elladan, Elrohir and Estel, in which they face their lust for revenge: Through the Valley. I usually don't mention other stories in the author notes cause I don't want it to seem like I'm hyping my own tales. I'm really not trying to, I promise. Just wanted to say, I have written it and I didn't want to go into that branch real in depth in THIS story, cause Elrond is the main character and I'm trying to focus on his life. :)**


	9. Forever

**So, I have no excuse for the lateness of this final chapter. But being the craven cur that I am, I'll try to make one anyway. Lightning did not strike my computer, but I did happen to watch the movie Inception for the first time in between the posting of the previous chapter and this one. To say that I have been obsessed with it is to put things very VERY lightly, as my charming Beta sibling will gladly attest. Fact is, plot bunnies of the wrong fandom have been gnawing on my leg, preventing my from finishing my tale. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. I really am sorry though! I guess it was silly to think that I could actually post a whole story without being late once. (sigh). Anyhoo, I sincerely hope you all enjoy the last chapter of this little tale, and I hope to see you all again soon. Many Many MANY thanks to everyone for your wonderful reviews!**

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Shadows rose in the East. The War of the Ring threatened everything that Elrond held dear. Again he could feel that hand tugging at the threads…slowly pulling the brightest and most beautiful away. The holes in the tapestry were growing as the life Elrond lived unraveled. No matter which way the tide turned, Elrond knew that his perception of forever was about to change once more.

Aragorn rose to the heights of his noble ancestry. His star burned bright and fiercely against the darkness of Sauron, and the Eye fell.

Elrond knew the instant the One Ring sank into the molten fire of Mt. Doom. Though Sauron had never touched the elven rings, his knowledge had aided the forging of them. They were still bound to the One, though not as tightly as the Nine. Elrond had used Vilya to protect Imladris, and had unwittingly poured a large part of himself into the most powerful of the three. When the One was destroyed, the hand ceased to tug at the threads and began to rip. Only this time, it was not a loved one whose thread was being pulled away, but a part of Elrond himself.

He had to leave. He had thought, when he first heard of Aragorn and Arwen's betrothal, that he would stay until she passed, so that he might at least keep her gleaming threads woven through his life as long as was possible. He could not. To stay, when so great a part of himself was missing would kill him. He had to seek the shores of Valinor.

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Elrond dully watched the thin line of brown land disappear into the gray of the sea. The elf lord laid his dark head down on the rail. The grief that had been weighing heavily upon him was suddenly too much. Too great. He had gone through many things in his long life. And he flattered himself, for the most part he had born them well; without cursing fate. Even in life's cruelest moments he had been able to find something to keep him from snapping under the strain of sorrow and grief.

Not anymore.

His mind was swamped with pain.

Arwen's face swam through his thoughts. The last time he had seen her she was trying to smile, but tears were flowing freely down her cheeks. She knew that it was goodbye.

Elrond had moved beyond tears. Clinging to the rail, he was engulfed in a well of misery that had no outlet. Why? Why this? Why him? Why his life?

He had always assumed that his journey to Valinor would be one of the happier times of his life. Of course, he had also assumed that his brother would be beside him...

He had assumed that Celebrian would stand with him forever…

He had assumed that his children would also sail…Arwen would not. She had chosen the mortal life. The twins, he did not know. Because he had been forced to sail or die, the Valar had extended the time for their decision to be made. He could see their faces in his mind's eye. Troubled, grieved. When he asked if they knew what choice they would make, neither had an answer. The only decision they had made so far was that they would wait for Arwen's life to have run its course.

Too many assumptions. Too many bitter disappointments.

Slowly, Elrond pushed himself upright. He was too tired. Too bone-weary of a life he would live forever. Forever! Oh how he _hated_ that word!

In disgust, he turned from the boat's rail, only to nearly trip over the diminutive form that had approached him. Elrond drew back in surprise. He had not heard anything. No footsteps, no sound at all! He drew a hand over his face quickly, feeling his cheeks reddening. Perhaps he was not so far beyond caring that he could not still be embarrassed. "Bilbo. I did not hear you approach." He should have. Hobbits tread lightly, but his ears had always been able to detect their step before.

Yet another sign of how necessary this journey was. He was losing parts of himself bit by bit.

On the flip side, from the instant he stepped aboard the boat, Bilbo seemed to come back to himself. There was a spark in his brown eyes that had been hidden by his many naps for a very long time.

"Is there something troubling you, Master Elrond?" the old hobbit leaned upon a stick now, but there was a new perk in his soft steps as he moved to stand beside the elf lord. He tilted his head upwards; honest face concerned.

"I…" he could not honestly say no. Besides which, he had no doubt that Bilbo would see it for the lie that it was. "Yes," he said finally. "Yes, old friend, I am...troubled." Understatement of the century.

Bilbo's brown eyes traveled to Elrond's hand, where it clutched at the rail. The elf lord's grip was so tight that his knuckles had turned white. "I see." The elderly hobbit turned his face upwards to look Elrond in the eye. "I understand, Master Elrond."

The ridiculousness of that statement surprised the elf lord so greatly that a bark of laughter almost escaped from his lips. He bit it back at the last second, not wishing to offend the halfling. He was sure that Bilbo only intended to be sympathetic, but the idea that a cosseted hobbit had any idea what Elrond was experiencing at the moment was truly laughable.

Bilbo's eyes twinkled suddenly. "You do not believe me. But it is true."

"Really." The elf lord could not keep a note of cynicism from his tone.

"You're angry," the hobbit continued, as though he had not heard. "and wondering why. Why _your_ life? What did you do to deserve the pain?"

Raven brows soared upwards. Bilbo's words so closely matched his thoughts he wondered if he had inadvertently spoken out loud for the hobbit to overhear. How on earth could he know...?

"I didn't always live on my own," Bilbo said quietly. "Did you never wonder why I had my parent's lovely hobbit hole to myself by the age of fifty? Rather young for one us little folk."

Yes. Yes it was. Hobbits were generally gifted with longer lives than men, and it was not unusual for members of a family to live together for the entirety of their lives. Suddenly, he realized that Bilbo's solitary existence was quite out of the ordinary.

"My mother was a Took," the elderly hobbit continued. "And she was very adventuresome (for a hobbit at least). She enjoyed taking her little pony for long rides by herself. One day, the poor beast returned without her." The brown eyes took on a distant look, gazing out over the gray waves. "We searched, and found her body. The pony must have been spooked by something. She had been thrown and had cracked her skull on a stone lying near the road. She was almost certainly killed instantly." Bilbo tapped his stick on the deck thoughtfully. "My father was crushed." A sad, wistful smile tugged at the hobbit's lips. "I know that most hobbits are credited with loving nothing so well as food, but my father was more attached to her than any comestible. I could tell, because after she was gone he lost interest in everything else. He faded into a shadow of himself."

Elrond looked down at the hobbit sharply. Those words brought vivid memories of Celebrian to his mind. The long horrible months after her rescue where she lived as a phantom, and then the pain of feeling her draw farther and farther away.

Bilbo did not catch the glance, his thoughts turned far away. "I was barely out of my tweens when my father joined my mother. And I was left all alone." he sighed softly. "I was very angry for a long time. Why me? What had I done? Why my parents?"

The elderly hobbit fell silent, and the air between them was filled with the sound of the waves and the creaking of the sails. "This was perhaps the only time when I was so angry for my own sorrow, but many other times I was similarly burdened." Bilbo closed his eyes, as though shutting out painful memories. "On my great adventure, at the very end. When Thorin and Fili and Kili lay dead. It was a long, long time before I could even smile again."

"Then there was Frodo. After his parents died, I traveled to Brandy Hall for the funeral." Bilbo suddenly scowled fiercely. (As fiercely as an aged, plump hobbit could) "There are hundreds of hobbits living in those tunnels, and the air was crackling with the wagging of their tongues. You see, there are some of the greatest fools of all times living amongst us halflings. Some nasty, idle gossipers with nothing better to do were discussing the possibility of Primula pushing her husband into the river, and him pulling her after him. Ridiculous, of course, and no one with a lick of sense paid it more than a second's notice, but they were talking about it in front of him.

"In the _excitement_ and the potential scandal of their death, poor Frodo was rather neglected. When I arrived he was creeping around the corners of rooms and hiding in the shadows to avoid the notice of the tale bearers. They _would_ pursue him and question him interminably. Like a pack of ravenous wolves after fresh meat." The brown eyes flashed angrily. "I couldn't stand it. Again I felt that anger. Why _him_? What had poor Frodo ever done to deserve this?" Bilbo tapped his stick thoughtfully. "I took him home with me. I could not bear for him to be left there amidst the prying busybodies while he was in such pain. Poor lad."

Elrond looked down at the hobbit with new eyes. By and large, hobbits were viewed almost on the level of children. Their perpetually cheery outlook led others to think of them as not being capable of deep emotion. Gandalf was right. They could be very surprising creatures when they chose.

Bilbo looked up at Elrond, and his lined face creased into a smile. "I am only a foolish hobbit. But I do believe that I found the answer for my question."

"Your question?" Elrond queried.

"Why. I believe I found the answer for the question why."

The elf lord's eyebrows drew together as he stared down at the halfling. The salty wind blew about him, whipping black strands of hair through the air. "And what is the answer, Bilbo?"

There was sadness in the brown eyes as Bilbo answered. "Why _not_ me?"

Elrond stared at the hobbit. "I'm afraid that I am not following you."

"Why _not_ me?" Bilbo repeated. "Why do others deserve grief and pain more than I? What have I done that should make me so special as to avoid sorrow throughout my life?" Bilbo crossed his arms over his round stomach. "But just because I have grief and pain in my life does not mean things have spiraled out of control. I look back on the pattern of my existence and see a plan knitting the events together. If my parents had not died, I should not have gone on my great adventure, and the Ring would not have been found, or it would have been found by someone much more unpleasant than myself." He shrugged. "If Frodo's parents had not died, he would not have come to live with me, and there would be no brave hobbit to carry the Ring into the fires of Mt. Doom. For I freely admit that it would have been a burden far too heavy for my shoulders to bear. Even when I first received the Ring, I doubt that I could have completed the task, and after having it for so long...I would have fallen to it's evil sway long before I set foot in Mordor.

"Would I have chosen the grief and pain that have come into my life?" The hobbit snorted inelegantly, causing Elrond to smile. "Most certainly _not_! However..." the elderly halfling placed a gentle hand on Elrond's arm and smiled up at him. "My choices would not have been the best. I would have chosen a life of luxury and ease. I would have cheated myself out of experiences that would lead to much greater depth of character (unpleasant as they may have been at the time). There was a plan for my life. A map. Parts of it are dreary and ugly, but parts are less than the whole. The sorrow offset the joy. And if I hadn't had the sorrow, how would I have known how sweet the joy could be?" Bilbo's eyes softened. "Not that I am minimizing your sorrow, _hir nin_. Elves have a greater propensity for grief, simply because their lives are so long."

"We also have vast capacity for joy, then, do we not?" Elrond asked quietly. And his life had also had joy. Great joy.

Bilbo patted the elf lord's arm and walked away, his stick tapping out an even rhythm against the wooden deck.

Long after the hobbit had left him, Elrond remained where he was, lost in thought.

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Days had passed. The smooth rolling motion of the ship was comforting to Elrond, as well as the smell of the salt. He stood at the prow of their small vessel, watching the approach of land. It had appeared slowly, a streak against the horizon.

Now he could see the green of the grass. The call of the sea birds filled his ears. Waves pounded the shoreline with the roar that was so familiar to him. The wind whipped around him, blowing back long strands of raven hair. He had discarded the long flowing robes that were his habitual garments and donned a tunic and trousers.

Over the days he had dwelt on the words Bilbo had spoken. A pattern. A plan. Darkness to emphasize the light.

His life; his tapestry was so mangled. Was it really as bleak and tattered as it seemed, or was he looking too closely?

For an instant, a vision unfolded before the elf lord's eyes.

Colors; vibrant and radiant and sparkling together in a glorious work of exquisite craftsmanship. An artisan's hand had crafted a woven masterpiece with nothing out of place. Running through the pattern, Elrond could see his own life. What he had thought of as torn was lovely. The threads meshed perfectly into the beauty, and there was no doubt that there was a design for every inch.

He gasped, and the horizon was before him once more. Closer now. Much closer.

There was a dock, and a number of elves clustered at the end of it to welcome the new arrivals.

One in particular stood out to Elrond's eyes.

A slender elf woman with silver blond hair.

Elrond's heart turned over in his chest. He had waited so long to see her. He had missed her so much. What would she be like? A moment's sick fear brought to mind the last time he had seen his wife.

Tears streaming down bloodless cheeks as she departed, never looking back. A shadow of her former self.

The ship drew up alongside the dock. Elrond threw out a line for eager hands to make fast and caught his wife's eyes. His heart jumped within his chest.

She was smiling. Her eyes were bright and sparkling. She stretched out her arms towards him, and without a second thought, the elf lord vaulted over the ship's rail to land upon the dock amidst the cheering of old friends. He would greet them later. After waiting literally centuries, he was not going to be distracted from his wife for one more instant.

Celebrian catapulted herself into his arms without a second's reserve. Happy tears soaked the shoulder of his tunic as her arms wound around his torso tightly. Elrond could only cling to her; words lost. He could feel his own tears sliding down his cheeks into her hair.

Tears for losing her.

Tears for their children.

Tears for having her beside him once more.

Celebrian pulled back for a moment and cupped his cheek with her hand. "I have missed you," she whispered, smiling through dewy lashes. "I have missed you so much."

"And I, you." his hands were stroking hair back from her face tenderly. He was shocked to discover that he had forgotten how silky it was. "We have much to talk about."

From the twinge of pain in Celebrian's eyes, he could see that she knew of Arwen. His wife nodded, biting her lip. They would grieve together, as was only right. And they would heal together.

Celebrian tilted her head up and Elrond kissed her, pulling her as close to himself as he could.

Their life stretched out before them, winding into the beautiful tapestry; never to be parted again.

This was the beginning of forever.

**Finish**

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**Again, thank you all, you have been wonderful. :)**


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